


The Legacy: Season Two

by Ahn-Li Steffraini (komiiro)



Series: Doctor Who: Legacy (Fan Web Series) [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Fan Series, Female Character In Command, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 138,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komiiro/pseuds/Ahn-Li%20Steffraini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Prose Based Fan Series.  The adventure continues with Susan Foreman as the 15th Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Refugees

**Author's Note:**

> In Legacy-verse, Miracle Day hasn't happened yet even though we are technically in the year 2013 and Miracle Day was supposed to happen in 2011. The differences will be seen in this chapter. Be warned - I will be addressing Miracle Day in a separate "special" somewhere in the middle of this season. Also, according the TARDIS wikia, the character of Sir Alistair died in 2050, so for modern purposes, I included him because I absolutely love his character.

Everything changed.

But, yet, nothing did.  Before leaving Earth, before the Four-Five-Six, he had been an administrator.  The tea boy.  Now, after coming back he was again.  Well, not so much.  He was an administrative worker with field agent clearance.  He was the man who did the paperwork when the team returned.

The team dynamic had changed drastically, though.

He still made the best coffee in the place, and he found himself still making it for everyone, but the best tea maker was Jackie Tyler.  Jack Harkness was still... just gone... and in his place was Peter Tyler.  Torchwood had explained his "disappearance" as staged so that his position within Torchwood could remain secret.  It was sketchy at best, but there was literally no other way to explain his sudden return.  At first the applicable government agencies had refused to see reason, citing the obvious autopsy on the real Peter Tyler, the accident in front of the church... the funeral.

Torchwood had stepped in, and with Jackie's testimony that while, she too, had been quite skeptical that certain things about him had finally convinced her.

It didn't help that his DNA and appearance was actually correct.

Finally, the proper registry offices had brought Peter Tyler back to life.

They just couldn't explain the nearly twenty year old son.  With a sigh, it was Alexander and Autumn who had come up with the best solution.  Ianto and Autumn had created the new records for Anthony Tyler, born two years ago in 2011.  While officially their son was now two years old, Alex said this was no problem - he would be properly introduced to Torchwood in 2029, at the age of eighteen, the legal age to actually work for Torchwood as a paid intern.

Jackie and Peter had been, at first, very concerned about this.  Jackie remembered Rose's frequent disappearances into the future with the Doctor and was vehemently against the same happening to Tony until Alex pointed out that records wise, Tony would be in the future but in reality he would work "in the past" with them, reverse to Rose's tendency and therefore still within reach of his parents, should he wish to be.

Thankfully, Tony had wished it, so the three now lived mostly legally and temporally correct to each other, and the paperwork had not required much more work than that.

Jake, Mickey's former working partner in the parallel world, had been a different matter.  He asked for the same deal as Tony, only then he turned around and asked for the Time Lords to take him to that future.  While he liked the Tyler's, he only really had a professional link to them and therefore no reason to stay in the past.  His present was 2031, and he'd like to return to it.

For a long moment, Alex had thought about it before he turned to his great-great grandmother, who nodded.  "Jake, I've a better idea.  I was raised in a time further on than that, and we're desperately short of people to work with.  If you can handle being a century on, I've a place for you at Torchwood in Vancouver.  Year is 2215, if you're interested."

Jake had gone to the twenty third century, much to everyone's shock.  Days later, Rose Tyler asked to speak to Autumn.

* * * * * *

"Are you sure about this?" asked Autumn, one more time.  "Let me tell you, as a mother myself, how much it hurt to see my two sons grow so very, very distant from me.  So much so that even when they came back into my house I did not recognize them.  Yes, literally - regeneration does that - but also emotionally, figuratively.  My sons had taken to the stars and to other times, other people.  I changed to them, and they changed to me.  Even when one son became Lord President, I failed to know who he was until they announced the name I gave him in addition to the name he had taken when he was officially sworn into office.  It will be the same with your mother and you."

Rose looked down from where her mother Jackie all but ruled the small nook that housed the kettle and tea.  She smiled sadly.  "The truth is, Autumn, I already have grown to the point where she doesn't recognize me anymore.  I've spent too much time with the Doctor that, as my mother once said would happen, I am just not Rose Tyler anymore."

Autumn nodded once to indicate that she understood.  "So the damage has already been done, then."

"Yeah."

"Do not ask this of me," asked Autumn, and while there was no sound of pleading, the plea was still plain.  "Not of me.  Not of a mother who will watch another mother go through the same as I have.  While I, and my sons, are and were Time Lords, it does not mean we are immune to heartsbreak.  You cannot ask me to do this to Jacqueline."

Rose sighed, while the part of her heard the strange lilting accent to the way the Time Lady said her mother's name, not to mention no one had called Jackie by her full name in a very long time.  That was the way of the Time Lords, though, she had noticed.  So much had been explained about the way the proper Doctor had been just by meeting and interacting with his people.

"Who else can I ask?" stated Rose.  "I can't ask one of the others, they wouldn't understand or would refuse me before I finished askin'.  You're the only one."

With a sigh, Autumn looked out the window to the younger of the Time Lords, one known as Alexander Campbell.  Susan's only son by blood, although evidently he had foster brothers and sisters from the twenty-second century.  Rose looked from Autumn to Alex again, and then said, "Thank you," before running to Alex to talk to him.

Autumn closed her eyes in sorrow, knowing that another difficult task would be ahead of her.

* * * * * *

"What the bloody hell have you done?" asked Ianto of her some hours later.

Autumn looked up from her book as he stalked into the garden of the small estate complex that the Time Lords had been granted.  It had been a literal estate property, and actually slated for demolition which was why they had been granted it so cheaply, but in their usual manner they had changed it and renovated it so that it was, once past the gates that had also been installed, more of an estate in the North American sense of the word.  It was like stepping foot into a very large and complex Roman villa, complete with the grandeur and upscale furnishings.  The interior housed a private garden.

In many ways, they had rebuilt the Citadel of the Time Lords within the heavily populated heart of Cardiff.  The only thing it lacked was the glass dome and the monorails.

The Time Lords within even had regained their former glory and wore the same clothes, robes and other cultural items.  It only took a moment for Ianto to be struck by this, and his former outburst was momentarily forgotten, although the same words were repeated in a more awed voice as he said in wonder, "What the bloody hell have you done here?"

With a smile, Autumn replied, "We took what was granted to us and made a home of it."

"You certainly have," he replied, then he scowled and the first meaning of his first question, the outburst, returned.  "It still doesn't answer the first question.  You.  What have you done?"

"I do not know what you mean, Ianto Jones," she answered evenly.  "Please elaborate... we both know you're going to anyway."

Ianto took a breath, then sighed before putting a hand to put two fingers to the bridge of his nose.  Taking two deep breaths, he calmed himself.  If he had learned anything, calm tended to mean he caught more than someone intended him to catch.  Piques of emotional outbursts might unsettle people unused to such things, but it also meant it unsettled him.  "Rose Tyler."  Ianto paced from an unusual tree back to the bench where Autumn still sat, suddenly took notice of the fact that she wore loose, flowing robes that had some sort of gold shoulder pieces.  "She left today with Alex.  Said a rather permanent good bye to everyone, but said she _might_ be in contact."

"So she chose that path after all," Autumn sighed, sadly.  "I rather suspected she would."

"Are you telling me you tried to talk her out of it?" asked Ianto.

"Yes, I did.  I told her that she could not ask me to do to Jacqueline Tyler what my own sons did to me.  But, she was determined in her course."

"She was... since when do you speak like this?" asked Ianto.  "Are you even speaking English, for God's sake?"

"I am," defended Autumn, and her voice rose slightly.  "Ianto... oh my beautiful Ianto... how long has it been, truly, since you last saw me in your time-line?  Your personal time-line, I don't mean what time around you makes it to be."

"You have been gone for one year, three months and one week, give or take a day.  I swore I'd count the days, Autumn, and I have," he admitted.

"I too, have counted the days since we parted," answered Autumn, as she stood up and walked over to him.

While she wasn't wearing the formal robes of a Time Lord, the day to day robes were still the same robes but without the massive golden shoulder pauldron pieces or head pieces.  She still had gold pauldrons, with small gold chains, but they were small, little more than shoulder caps to hold the robes closed.  She wore a thin golden circlet in her hair, and the front piece sat heavily on her forehead, but she was rather thankful that it wasn't the formal wear.  That was simply cumbersome.

But the typical wear for a Time Lord, or Time Lady, was still meant to impress lesser beings.  And it served to illustrate the rather large gap between her and Ianto now.

"For me, it has been eighteen centuries, plus four months, two weeks and two days, by human reckoning," she stated.  "In those long years, I checked on one 'teenage' son in the Time Lord Academy, had another and raised and then sent him, too, into the Academy.  I watched both grow into men, and then into their roles as Time Lords.  One would become conventional, proper... his shortcomings hidden.  The younger would be proper, but bored and crave adventure.  He would, unlike his elder brother, marry and have children, and those children have children of their own.  Each one also going to the Academy and become Time Lords in their due course.  In those short years, to you, I lived and became a great-grandmother... and then... a great-great grandmother."

Ianto felt the hot tears behind his eyelids but fought against them.  "Are you telling me that you forgot me?"

"No, Ianto.  I never did.  But... there is no way to make this easier on you... Ianto Jones, whom I love, I am not the same Autumn you remember.  I may not have regenerated since you saw me last, but I am still not the same as you remember.  And you are not the same either.  We are both different now." She looked up at him, searching his eyes for something.  "Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?"

Ianto nodded.  "What we had is gone.  It was gone when you left Earth.  I knew that."

"I am sorry, Ianto Jones."

"No, I am.  I expected something that could not be even though I knew it couldn't happen."  Ianto sighed and then looked down at her.  "But that doesn't mean we're enemies now, right?  We can still be civil... still have coffee together some days?"

Autumn laughed, not a cruel laugh, but one more of relief.  "Yes, of course.  I would like that very much."

Ianto walked out of the compound then, looking back only once to see Autumn framed by the arch of the entrance, the stone acting like a frame around a picture of this strange, alien, woman in an unearthly garden.  And then he turned and left, stopping only when he was at his own home again.

It was only then that he looked up into the sky, as if there was something there that he could see.  That, too, was now something in the past and could never bee the same again.  What was weeks to him was years for Jack Harkness.

* * * * * *

 **ACT ONE**

* * * * * *

A really old rock song, one that was old before even the classic rock, blared loudly from the depths of the TARDIS.  The console room was deserted and dark, although the glow from the core dimly lit the central part of the console.  The screens were dark, likely on a sort of power save mode.

The sound of laughter overlapped the music, but, unlike the music, the laughter was moving out of the depths and towards the console room.  Donna stepped into the console room and was greeted by the gradual, if swift, change from dim lighting to near full lighting as the console activated by her mere presence alone.  Jack laughed one final laugh, still relating whatever story he was relating as the Doctor followed behind them both, a slight smile the only indication that that she was listening.

Donna looked over and saw the slight melancholy on the Time Lord's face and walked over, giving her a playful little shove to attempt to knock her out of whatever spiral her thoughts were working into.

The Doctor smiled, moved out of range and therefore away from Donna's second try at it.  She could see why her grandfather had liked the woman.  She was, in many ways, much like Autumn before everything had likely gone downhill.  In truth, the Doctor didn't recognize her great-grandmother much anymore.  She had turned more into Patience, but she supposed that was to be expected after having to hold together their house during the Time War.

She knew her companions were concerned.  They had every right to be.

For all intents and purposes, all was well.  She had her people back -- and probably the better part of the Time Lords instead of the part that made them less as a whole.  While most of her family was still dead, she had more than she ever expected to see returned to her.

But... something felt as if it was approaching, dark and foreboding and weighing heavily on her soul and the Doctor knew it wasn't her own.  Another Time Lord was feeling this way, perhaps more than one and she was picking up on the notes of something not right at all.

* * * * * * * *

The meeting was mostly human and she knew she should have felt honoured to even be allowed within the room.  However, it was a bitter pill.

For untold generations Gallifrey had been the eldest of all civilizations.  Their policies had shaped the universes and when they had learned the secret to traveling the Vortex within their TARDISes they had been able to hold on to this distinction.

Now, however, with the fall of Gallifrey and the Council of Time Lords that ruled over it, that was all swept away almost as if it had never been.  Their status as eldest and most powerful crumbled away leaving the Time Lords without a home and without their seat of power.  They were little more than just refugees left to cling to the nearest friendly port they could find.

 _How the mighty hath fallen_ , mused Autumn.  _To be reduced to begging for scraps at the table of those once thought little better than beasts_.

Autumn was the eldest of them all.  She was not only mother to one of Earth's heroes, depending on which government you asked, but just plain the eldest of them all by virtue of that.  She was also the last surviving member of the Inner Council of the Time Lords; the very Council that used to have direct access to the Lord President of Gallifrey.  One of her sons had even served as Lord President of Gallifrey and, by extension, the Time Lords.

It was only by this distinction that she had been even allowed within the room where these humans would decide their fates.

Gone was the day that a Time Lord could command respect just by their mere presence.  She would have been insulted enough to simply depart in her TARDIS however she no longer even had one.  The few that had survived the Time War were so close to failing that there was no other option other than to remain here, in this time and in this place until maybe at least one of them were repaired enough, recovered enough, to at least take off in normal space let alone brave the Time Winds in the Vortex.  They were trapped here and the longer they remained the less likely it was that they were ever leaving.

"The council calls Lady Autumn, the representative from Gallifrey and the Time Lord Remnant," intoned the page.

Autumn stood, her gold shawl falling in waves around her shoulders over the dark burgundy skirt suit she wore.  "Ladies and Gentlemen of the United Nations council for Refugee status, I thank you for the time to bring my case before you.  My name is Kethrenalysaifanyare e'Fanyarenosse e'Prydon, Acting Lady President of the High Council of Time Lords of Gallifrey Prime and Kithriarch of House Lungbarrow."

She could see some of the humans eyes glaze over from her title and name, but others she saw their eyebrows raise in barely restrained amusement.  Not exactly the reaction she was hoping for, but she was determined to retain her pride.  Fallen the Time Lords might be, but not beaten and certainly not dead.  "Madam President," said the man, with an accent that said he was from someplace in Britain... it was an aristocratic sounding accent.  "We are honoured that you felt the need to bring this to us personally."

"Dire circumstances demanded a direct and personal approach, sir," she answered plainly.

"If so, please continue without delay, Madam," said the man.

"Thank you, sir" She noticed that at her failure to bow, or even nod, a few of the people in the room were more than a bit shocked.  Strange.  "I come before you to ask for clemency on your soil.  Our people have lost their home, their very world and everything they had.  We seek shelter and time to heal and rebuild, and to find a new home for us.  We seek status as Refugees; and ask for your aid."

Another man on the council, this one with an accent and demeanor she was unfamiliar with called out, "And why should we do that?"

"Because one of our own has saved your planet many, many times.  Most of those times he did it and no one ever could know.  Others, it was so plain that all saw it and remembered it," she answered.  "I do not wish to ask you to return a favour, or repay a debt, but I would gently remind you of it as possible leverage to our cause."

"And who was that?" asked the first man.

As it happened, Autumn didn't have to answer as another man walked in, leaning on a cane heavily as he walked.  But it was his answer as he stepped in the room.  "Because her son, I believe, is the Doctor.  Am I correct, Lady Autumn?"

"Quite," she answered as she turned back to the Council.

"And who are you?" demanded another member of the council.

"My name is Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, formerly Brigadier-General Lethbridge-Stewart," answered the man as he walked to stand beside Autumn.  "I'm honoured to finally meet you, Madam... although I wish I could say I'd actually heard of you before this."

"The honour is mine, Sir Alistair... I have heard of you," she answered, smiling back at him.

There was a murmur through the council and the first man, the one from Britain, said, "Sir Alistair.  How did I know that a secret meeting would not remain so where it concerned you?"

"It might have, if not for the fact of who would be standing before you.  I have ears everywhere, your Highness."

"Still as blunt as ever," said the Prince.

"Your grandmother knighted me, your Highness," chuckled Sir Alistair.  "And you always loved my stories."

The Prince coughed and then turned back to the matter at hand.  "I am inclined to grant you the shelter you seek, my lady, but it is not solely my decision."

"Thank you."

"I disagree," said the woman who had questioned Alistair's identity.  "She has no nation by her own admission.  Even if we accepted the nation of Gallifrey as such there is no longer a Gallifrey.  Her nation is defunct."

"Is that not the very nature of refugee?" asked another council member.  "Having no home and seeking shelter from those who do?  And, as she said... Earth as a whole owes her people a rather large debt through her son, the Doctor's, actions."

"Indeed it is so," answered the second man.  "But as to her first request, which was to negotiate anything for them as a nation, I agree that she has no such right as there is no nation, and therefore normal diplomatic negotiations do not apply.  I suggest we take them on a case by case basis and find what spaces we can for them.  They will not remain together but be fairly split among the nations to share the burden as refugees."

"I don't recommend that," said Sir Alistair.  "Their eventual aim is to move on and find a new home that would not involve displacing others.  To split them up would either defeat that entirely or slow it to being pointless."

"Nevertheless, as refugees, that is what must happen," said the Prince.  "Lady Autumn, do you accept this Council's decision?  Please be advised that refusal means we cannot grant you any of your requests for your people."

Sir Alistair touched her elbow out of support.  He rather suspected she wasn't going to be happy about it.  Hell, he wasn't.

She wasn't happy about it.  It would weaken what remained of the Time Lords and Gallifreyans even more than they already were.  But she had little choice.  It was that or find another shelter from what the war had wrought on the Time Lords.  Unfortunately, there was no other place they could go and their TARDISes weren't going to last the trip anyway.

Autumn bowed her head in defeat.  "I accept on the behalf of the surviving Time Lords.  It will be as you say."

* * * * * * * *

The trip back to Cardiff took hours from London with Sir Alistair as company.  The man watched the elder woman the entire trip in the back of the rented limo.  "Are you all right, Lady Autumn?" he asked finally, offering her a snifter of brandy.  "Your son liked to take this with me at the end of the day."

Autumn looked up at him finally, staring into the old man's eyes.  He many, many years ahead of him.  Far more than a human ought to have but she could recognize Time's Hand in this.  "Thank you for your support earlier."

"My Lady, it was my honour.  I can see where he gets... got it...  Damn.  I don't think I'll ever get used to referring to him in the past tense."

"If it helps, you haven't seen the last of him," said Autumn with a smile.  "But he can never know should you see him again in your future."

"Ah yes.  Time traveler.  I suppose that's true but when we deal with our present then we deal with his death," said Alistair, and with a sigh he leaned back into the seat.  "And in the present I deal with his mother and his granddaughter.  I did not expect..."

There was a bit of a mischievous twinkle in the man's eyes now, one that Autumn wasn't sure she appreciated but didn't find totally unwelcome.  "Did not expect what?" she answered in a perfect representation of his very accent, and was rewarded with surprise and barely hidden delight -- the latter unexpected but it did confirm what the twinkle had been about.

"I did not expect that his mother would be so... lovely."

"Lovely?" she asked, mock archly.  "Sir Alistair, I am not lovely; I am over four thousand years old and I am beginning to show signs of that age."

"And?  So then you're an elder by the standards of your people.  So am I by the standards of mine."

So he was suggesting that.

Interesting.

But also very strange.  All reports of Sir Alistair were of a very taciturn, business-like man with no time for such things.  And he was also reportedly very married to a lovely woman named Doris, who would not die until the year of 2011.

Oh.

It was 2013, and two years since Doris' passing.  He was still a widower, and likely missed Doris as Autumn missed Ulysses before the bastard had left her on Gallifrey with their two sons to raise.  Her sons had handled being abandoned far better than she ever thought they would.  Braxiatel had been well on through the Academy by the time Ulysses decided he'd had enough, but... her beloved younger son who would one day become the Doctor had only been twelve and far too young to understand why his father had simply vanished without so much as a good-bye.

It was a good thing Innocet had been there to pick up the pieces as Autumn had barely been able to leave her bed.

Sir Alistair saw the change on the woman's face and put a hand out over hers.  "My dear, what did I do or say to bring this on?"

"You did nothing; it was not you," she answered, her Gallifreyan accent plain again, and she heard the sigh from him at his.  "My accent troubles you."

"No, on the contrary," said Sir Alistair.  "I find it as beautiful and exotic as the woman who possesses it."

Oh dear Rassilon, what had she done to this human man to have that effect?  She smiled.  "That's very sweet of you, but you need not flatter me to make me feel better."

"Is that what you think?" he asked, and she heard the hurt and shocked tone.  "You don't know me half as well as... well, I suppose you wouldn't."  There was no mistaking the very well hidden bitter tone.  "He wouldn't have said."

"He did, actually... when I actually saw him," pointed out Autumn.

Alistair actually laughed then.  "It never strikes us sons what we do to our mothers until we meet another mother and suddenly it hits us full in the face."

* * * * * * * * * *

The meeting was held in secret and then only among a select group of humans.  Projected onto the white board were the faces of four people.  Autumn, the Doctor, Jack Harkness and Sir Alistair.  These were representatives from various intelligence agencies, ones with clearances so high that most people didn't know they existed unless the country of origin didn't actually support that level of secrecy.  In that case they had the clearances to know but were more public, even if the general public and half of the government didn't know the full degree of what they did.

The meeting was among fifteen people.

Brigadier General Bambera looked from one side to the other.  She recognized Allen Shapiro from the CIA, as well as representatives from Torchwood One in Toronto, Canada.  She walked over to the new representative, and held out her hand.  "Good evening, my name is Brigadier General Winifred Bambera from UNIT.  I heard about Director Vaillieaux.  He was a good man, you have my condolences."

She nodded her acknowledgment and shook Bambera's hand.  "Thank you, Brigadier General.  How is Sir Alistair?"

"Very well, but has business in London and Cardiff."

"Ah yes, I heard about his appearance before the UN council with that Gallifreyan Ambassador..." said Shapiro as he walked up.  "Fascinating creatures those.  I'd love to see one up close... meet one and talk to one.  Particularly the Doctor herself."  This was said with a wink and Bambera rolled her eyes.  "Nothing to personal.  The wife wouldn't appreciate it.  Is it true what the files say?  Or is the Doctor simply a call sign?  That seems far more believable."

"How much do you know exactly?" asked Bambera, her eyes thinning in sudden suspicion.

Shapiro made a placating gesture with his hands.  "Nothing that I shouldn't, I assure you.  Your security is still very tight.  What we've learned came from other sources."  There was no mistaking the pointed glance towards the woman from Torchwood.  "But, perhaps we should find our seats.  The meeting is starting."

Bambera found herself seated next to Shapiro, but not next to the Torchwood woman.  Instead she was between the representative from Mossad.  With a sigh, she had a feeling she knew where this meeting was going.  "Thank you ladies and gentlemen for agreeing to meet today to discuss the refugees to Earth as a whole, not just to one of our sovereign nations.  This is an issue that affects us all, even if we find ourselves not being directly involved," began the Chinese delegate.  "It proves to us all, without a shadow of a doubt, that even if an alien race is far advanced in comparison to ours that we can end up being a place of safety and refuge. We are no longer alone in this universe as evidenced by the arrival of the Gallifreyan people on Earth."

"Get to the point, Zhao Xiang," said the Canadian, not from Torchwood, but from CSIS, which was the Canadian equivalent of the CIA and MI-5.

Xiang glared at the Canadian.  "Now, now, Ben, curb the hostility.  Zhao Xiang has a point," stated Shapiro.  "It would be best if we listened to what he has to say."

"Thank you, Allen."  Xiang cleared his throat and continued.  "These unfortunates are here and asking for our aid but I have learned that some of our organizations are finding less than savory ideas on what to do with them."

"And you're not?" asked the representative from Mossad.

"I will admit we find them fascinating, but we have no illusions that as unfortunate and homeless as they are that they are also defenseless.  Which leads to the next issue."

"They aren't harmless," said the representative from Russia.  "We all know that. There is more than just one infamous example of their power.  I have it on good authority that one Harold Saxon, now thankfully deceased, was one of their number.  Known as the Master."

The silence in the room was heavy.  Bambera sighed.  "I can confirm that as true."

"You're not serious," said Shapiro, and there was something in the man's eyes that she wasn't sure she liked.

"Unfortunately I am.  But, also, remember the Doctor is one of theirs."

"Or many - I still believe that to be a call sign... one of yours, I believe.  Did not the Doctor work for UNIT in the 70's and 80's?" asked Torchwood.

"Yes, that I can confirm," answered Bambera.  "He was stranded, but agreed to work with us in fair exchange of a roof over his head until he could get back into the stars."

"And now we know how they knew to come to us," stated Torchwood.  "You are responsible for this!  Once he had regained his ability to travel he took that knowledge and went straight back to his world with it and reported back to them.  And now... here they are."

Shapiro pinched the bridge of his nose.  "Nell, there is no way to confirm that.  Furthermore, he's been here and back numerous times and each time I can tell you he's saved us. Even the CIA knows that.  Hell, we have records straight back to the moon landing about him.  We even had him... for three months... in Area 51 before he slipped his guards and vanished again.  Trust me when I say this - if they wanted to invade they would have and we'd not even know they were here until it was too late."

"So they are dangerous," said the representative from Russia.  "I suggest not splitting them up.  If they are telling the truth... put them in a camp somewhere remote and surround it with guards and barbed wire.  They should be segregated from us."

"Tell me you, of all people, did not just suggest that!" shouted the representative from Mossad.  "I agree that they should be watched, but what you suggest is... is... a travesty."

"At best it's like a reserve in Canada... which isn't the greatest option either," said the CSIS representative.  "That would solve nothing either.  No, no, leave them as refugees.  Process them as normal.  I realize that it will add months to the process, but at least we can get a feel for each individual or their family unit.  Let them choose their solution.  It not only gives them a fair sense of of dignity, but it is humane and fair."

"I agree with Ben," said Shapiro.

"As do I," said Bambera.

"As does Mossad - it would give us far more intel on them and a feel for their culture and a sense of who they are than throwing them in a concentration camp." This last part was aimed at the representative from Russia.

"I was not suggesting anything so cruel as that, but perhaps a cultural center they can retreat to if Earth gets to be too new, and too much for them.  It would be a shame for them to lose their culture after all this.  Like an added insult to injury," stated the representative from Russia.

* * * * * * * *

After the meeting a few of those from within it met secretly.  "I have to agree that just one of those... Time Lords... would likely have information and technology unlike anything we've seen.  It could shoot us ahead by decades, perhaps centuries."

"Dangerous territory you are suggesting there.  There are many who consider them now protected."

"If one or two go missing, who will notice?  Earth is a big planet to vanish on with billions of people to fade into, especially considering they do not look alien to us but like other humans."

* * * * * * * * *

 **ACT TWO**

* * * * * * * * *

The limo pulled up in front of the Plas and the door was opened by the driver.  The Brig and Autumn stepped out of the back of it and he stood with her in front of the water tower.  "Well, I suppose this is your stop, my dear.  If you ever need anything, please do not hesitate to ask.  I am but a phone call away."

Autumn inclined her head.  "I will remember that offer, but I hope I will not need to bring your position into disrespect."

"I do not mean just for that..." he sighed.  "Can we please drop the formality?  I wasn't this formal with your son, and I'd hate to be this formal with you.  Please, just call me Alistair."

"Then you must simply call me Autumn."

"Not Kethrenalysa... oh hell, I think I will stick to Autumn, unless you allow me to shorten it to Kethren.  Seems a shame to not use a perfectly good and lovely name that suits you.  After all, I am assuming that is your name?"

"It is.  As is Autumn.  It is what the name means.  Gallifreyan names are not chosen randomly -- we know the meaning of our names."

"Alien lover!" came a screamed shout.

Alistair blinked in surprise at that just as they turned to see a crowd gathering.  "Alistair, you should leave.  I have a feeling this is about to get ugly."  Autumn backed up towards the car, guiding Alistair and his driver back to it.

"Don't be ridiculous, I can't leave you to handle this lynch mob by yourself."

"Alistair, please... I am a Time Lord.  I am far more robust than you or your friend.  Just go."

There was a bit of hurt in his eyes, but he nodded once as the first rock struck the car, causing silvery cracks in the glass of the window but the anti-shatter coating held. Alistair retreated fully into the car and pulled out the phone, noticing that his driver was already ahead of him and already on the phone with the authorities.

Autumn fell into the car, not injured, but she slammed the door closed and the driver wasted no time in locking it.

There was the loud crack of a gunshot in the air and the crowd suddenly dispersed.  Alistair gathered up the alien woman into his arms and cradled her.  He was aware of the bemused smile on her face and he looked down and she looked up.  For a long moment time stilled as they both stared into each others eyes.  The air was electric.

And as quickly as the moment came it passed as Ianto Jones pulled the door open and guided both Autumn and Alistair out of the car.  "Are you all right?" he asked, calmly, but the calm belied the storm in his eyes and the outrage at her treatment.

"Yes, Ianto, we are," she answered.

Moments later sirens screamed in the distance as they came closer and finally the police car came to a halt in front of the Plas and the limo.  "About time," said Alistair as the two officers came up to them.  "That mob nearly killed us."

"Sirs, are you all right?"

"We are, thanks to the young Ianto here," answered Autumn.

"Ma'am, please be quiet, you are in enough trouble as it is," said the first officer, as he brought out his cuffs.  "You are under arrest for disturbance of the peace and public mischief."  He finished with reading her rights and then allowed the other officer to guide her to the back of their car.  "Now, when did she..."

"She didn't do anything!" exclaimed Sir Alistair.  "I was just bringing her back to her friends when someone from those ruffians called me an alien lover and began to throw stones at the car.  I barely managed to get the two of us inside and my driver to call for aid before the young Mr. Jones scared them off.  I demand you release her."

"And you are, sir?" asked the officer.

"Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart," he answered bringing himself up to his full height.

The officer visibly paled before turning to Ianto.  "My name is Ianto Jones, Torchwood Three."

The officer sighed.  "There was another complaint that she had been the one to instigate this, which will have to be investigated at the station."

"The CCTV will clear her."  Ianto assured Alistair when the car drove off, Autumn still in the back seat as she stared back at them until it was out of sight.  "It will show that the crowd mobbed you and not the other way around.  I was watching it for her return... that's how I knew to come out."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," said Sir Alistair.  "I think I will head to this station and see what I can do about getting her released."

"I can do that," said Ianto, a frown creasing his brow.  "I appreciate what you have done..."

"It is my pleasure, young man.  Carry on."

Ianto was left to wonder what the Hell just happened, but the dismissal was clear.  A thread of red hot jealousy surged through him.  First Jack and now Autumn.  His life had literally been thrown up into chaotic pieces since the Doctor had re-entered all of their lives.  He walked back to the Hub, blowing out a breath as he did so.  He had been gone so long to them but yet it was nothing to him.  And now this.

He slammed the door to the Hub and watched as the blonde woman he suddenly found there jumped.  "Can I help you?" he asked, puzzled.

"Oh, yes... I... ah..."

"It would help if you told me your name."

"...Oh, it's Jenny..." And then she smiled.

Ianto found himself dazzled by a mega-watt grin and blue eyes.

* * * * * * * *

Gwen watched as Ianto led the young woman into the Hub.  Other than she was very pretty, and very young, she was normal looking if for the dirty military styled fatigues she wore and the smile that could light up a room.  She was familiar but she couldn't put a finger on where she'd seen her.  It was only when Martha walked in, stared, and had the girl stare back in shock.  If it were possible the girl's grin brightened even further as Martha gasped, then tears ran freely down her face as they ran to each other.  "Oh my God, Jenny!" exclaimed Martha.

"Martha!" was the equally joyous cry from the other girl.  "I knew I'd find you!  Oh... where is Dad?  Tell me you've seen him.  And Donna."

Martha's face fell, and Gwen suddenly realized it wasn't the girl she'd seen, but the girl's father.  A pall settled over the Hub.  "What is it?" asked Jenny.

"He's... he's gone."

"Yes, I know."  Jenny rolled her eyes.  "Off and running, saving worlds and doing more running."

"No, Jenny... he's... dead," said Martha sadly.

Jenny stilled suddenly, the smile faltering before fading entirely.  "What?  No... I just found you!  He can't be!"

Martha gathered the young woman into a hug.  "I'm so sorry, but he died after finishing out his regenerations.  He was so old when... but he wasn't alone."

"And Donna?" asked Jenny in a subdued voice.

Martha laughed.  "Fine, just fine and... well... it's a long story."

"Tell me everything!" said Jenny.  "I want to know everything."

Ianto watched in bemused silence before moving over to Gwen, all business.  "We have a problem.  Autumn was arrested just outside for disturbance of the peace."

"What?" asked Martha.  "Why are we standing here then?"

"Who's Autumn?" asked Jenny.

"Don't worry, Sir Alistair has gone to secure her release and I am to take all the CCTV evidence to clear her name," said Ianto.

At the same time, Martha explained to Jenny, "Long story short, she's your grandmother.  The Doctor's mother."

"Really?" asked Jenny, her eyes wide.  "When can I meet her?"

"Hopefully soon," stated Pete as he came out of his office.  "I just talked to the investigating officer.  Sir Alistair has already posted her bail and taken her to his home in the country.  She'll be far safer there.  Greetings, Jenny.  My name is Peter Tyler, and this is my wife Jackie.  Can we get you anything?"

Jenny smiled, and then promptly collapsed into Ianto's arms when he managed to catch her from behind.  He lifted her and noted that she was bony, and far too thin.  The dirt masked bruises and other marks.  "Infirmary, now," ordered Martha.

* * * * * * * *

The Doctor stood still as she listened to the message on the phone.  Jack and Donna stepped up to support her at the elbows as she turned pale.  "Thank you Ianto. Can you give me the exact temporal coordinates to this?  Yes, I mean the date.  Exactly and as accurately as you can.  Thank you, we'll be there shortly.  Now... that is amusing.  I didn't think he'd go for her.  Wait... I think I remember him.  No, I don't mean as the Doctor... I mean as me... just me.  He saved me from drowning.  No, I don't think he knows it was me.  Oh, this was a long, long time ago from my perspective.  My first incarnation and before we began traveling with Ian and Barbara..." the Doctor trailed off, this time smiling at the memory of a much simpler and happier time.  "Ianto... tell Martha and the others we'll be right there.  It's time to put a stop to this farce right here and right now."

She hung up the handset and sighed, sitting down in the pilot's seat with another heavy sigh.  "I take it things are not perfect?" asked Donna.

"No... but there is good and bad news.  Bad news is that they aren't taking the Gallifreyans as a group but as individual refugees.  That's not as bad as it seems, though.  It could have been far worse."  The Doctor leaned back, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes as if to push away the fatigue of dealing with this.

"I can think of far, far worse," said Jack. "Ever see the movie District 13?"

"No... should I have?"

Donna's expression darkened.  "No, you don't want to."  She turned on Jack and slapped his arm.  "And shame on you, dunce, for mentioning it."

Jack shrugged and waited for the Doctor to continue.  "Worse news is that the people of Earth are responding in fear and anger, some are forming mobs and attacked Autumn and Sir Alistair just outside the Hub in Cardiff.  Autumn was arrested for disturbing the peace."

"That's just stupid!  How stupid can they be?" ranted Donna.  "I swear that people are so... so... stupid sometimes it's just mind boggling."

"Fear tends to suspend higher reasoning." Jack sighed.  "The twenty first century is when it all changes.  I always wondered what it was and now I know."  He blinked and then stood up straighter.  "You said there was good news?"

"Sir Alistair is quite taken with Autumn it seems.  He secured her release and managed to have all charges dropped against her.  He then took her to his country home where she is much safer.  She will be his house guest for awhile."  The Doctor smirked at this.  "I was hoping he'd find someone to fill his life after Doris drowned in that accident, but this was rather unexpected.  Not unwelcome... if Autumn allows it to continue."

"Good for them!" exclaimed Donna.  "There's more isn't there?"

"Ianto found a rather pretty blonde in the tourist center that was looking for her Dad... and her name is Jenny."

Donna's eyes bugged out.  "No way!"

The Doctor nodded and smiled.  "She survived Messaline, barely, it seems.  She fainted shortly after.  Ianto said she was no more than a twig in his arms and Martha is treating her for exhaustion and starvation, as well as other signs of physical abuse.  She barely made it here.  Pete send out a field team to find her ship."

With that the Doctor stood and then walked over to the console again and began to run around it.  The Time Rotor began to move up and down as they stopped hovering in the Vortex.  Moments later they landed and the Doctor threw open the doors to reveal Cardiff.  With that, Gwen and Ianto ran inside and closed the doors just as armed men gave chase.  "Quick, dematerialize the TARDIS and take us here... same time or a few minutes ahead," said Gwen.

The Doctor threw the switch just as the sound of gunfire hit the side of the TARDIS.  Once done, she took the paper from Gwen and asked, "What the hell is going on now?"

"You missed by a few weeks!" exclaimed Ianto.  "Things have gone from bad to worse."

The TARDIS rematerialized, and the Doctor cautiously opened the doors, saw that they were safety within the deeper part of the Hub before she opened the doors fully.  "Between when we last talked and now, two Time Lords went missing from Canada and London," explained Ianto, and the Doctor blinked in shock.  "We think it was Mossad and maybe the CIA.  They have been in contact with others.  Mossad didn't realize that your people are highly telepathic and could call for help that way.  Contact was lost so we're guessing they figured it out."

"I'd ask why but I think I know," said the Doctor darkly.

"Autumn went to the proper authorities and accused the two organizations of kidnapping and when the nature of that evidence came to light, well... all the organizations... except for UNIT... banded together and claimed the Gallifreyans were spies and threats to national and homeland security.  I'm sure you can guess which organization led that particular claim," supplied Gwen.

For a long moment the Doctor was literally shocked into silence.  And then she took one breath, and then another as she came out of her respiratory bypass and forced herself to begin breathing normally again.  "What about UNIT?" asked the Doctor.

"Like us, UNIT maintains that they're not spies nor threats.  They cite you and your grandfather as prime examples of that.  Torchwood is backing them up on that under the Queen's direct order.  I'd really, really like to know what your grandfather did to gain such support from her..."

"... stopped a ship from obliterating Buckingham Palace at Christmas in 2008," answered the Doctor.  "Among other things."

Gwen stopped for a moment and then started laughing.  "Yeah, that'd do it.  Saved her life in specific and directly.  So, out of respect for the Doctor those Time Lords and Gallifreyans have been spirited away and to secure locations.  To maintain the illusion of cooperating with the mandate, UNIT and Torchwood are arresting the refugees when we can find them to keep them out of MI-5's and others hands.  Some Time Lords are seeing this for what it is and only giving token resistance to make it look good.  Others have gone to ground, and given how human they look they've been very successful.  They want to take back their kin and run, or force us lesser beings into bending to their will stating they've tried the peaceful method, time for another approach.  Before Autumn disappeared she made it clear she wanted a peaceful resolution..."

"Autumn is gone?" asked the Doctor in horror.

"Unfortunately, she didn't make it out of the building when she went to plead her case.  We have literally heard nothing."  The worry on Ianto's face was obvious as they guided the Doctor up and out of the archives and into the Hub proper.

"Oh thank God you're still free!" came Jackie's exclamation and the Doctor found herself enveloped in a massive hug.

Jackie pulled back and smoothed back the Doctor's hair.  Pete made a motion with his head to indicate that the Doctor needed to look up and behind her.  Standing on the catwalk above and just to the side from where it linked to the conference room from the cog door was a group of Time Lords.  It was then she noticed them all.  Some were despondent, and others paced nervously.  All regarded her with veiled expressions, but there was no mistaking the hope now that she was here.

They all stood and then bowed.  A smaller group, elders and possibly those that remained from the defunct council stepped forward.  For a long moment the Doctor faced down the Cardinal before he stated, "Madam President, what do we do now?"

* * * * * * * * *

 **ACT THREE**

* * * * * * * * *

For a long moment the Doctor couldn't respond.  In truth, no one could in the Hub.  Every single last human could not believe what they just heard.  Finally, the Doctor managed to push out, "I'm sorry?"

The Cardinal sighed and looked to the others as if to say, I told you she'd be like this.  The other shrugged but then they turned back to her.  "It is common knowledge that in the Doctor's fourth incarnation, he was fairly voted in and then sworn in as Lord President of Gallifrey, and therefore our Head of State.  He also held office for a set period."

"He also abdicated after appointing his successor."  She could see the shocked look at her admittance of that fact.

They hadn't known this.  Wonderful.  Further complications in their relationship.

"Yes, he did, however, he was voted in and again served in his Sixth incarnation for a second term as Lord President of the Time Lord High Council and of Gallifrey.  This was something that only Rassilon could lay claim to -- two non concurrent terms."  The other Time Lords nodded their acknowledgment.

The Doctor looked up to the ceiling.  "Yes, and he didn't even bother to appoint a successor before abdicating that time.  He simply ran away, if you remember."

"We don't deny that; that also means technically he was still President and every President after was merely an Acting President in his stead until he returned until, of course, Rassilon put an end to that.  At which point he served Rassilon..."

"... Unwillingly, and during a time of war," finished the Doctor.

"Yes, however, if you follow the logic, not only was he twice elected, he was also directly involved as a War Hero... and... the Last to Step Foot on Gallifrey itself.  The Doctor logically holds far more claim than any of us for leadership.  Even while assigned elsewhere, he worked from the Citadel as its Representative, and then as a General in our military.  His brother was a respected Cardinal.  His son none other than Admiral Hawke, and his daughter Rylen was a respected member of our Senate.  Unlike any of us, even Autumn, he has the highest connections with the universe at large.  We, the surviving Time Lords and Gallifreyans took a vote, and it was decided that the most qualified and most rightful claim to Presidency belongs to the Doctor and to no other."

The companions looked at the Doctor expectantly.  The Doctor knew what this meant.  For them to decide to regain a Presidency meant they were establishing themselves as a nation again, but with no actual soil on which to settle that claim.  She didn't like where this was heading.  They couldn't leave Earth which meant they were about to lay claim to someplace on Earth to legitimize their nation.  It was Jackie who defused the tense atmosphere.  "Oh, now that's unexpected.  I didn't expect the bum to be so high'n mighty.  He never acted it..."

"He didn't want that kind of attention.  He hated it," answers the Doctor before she turned back to the other Time Lords.  "I can't take the Presidency.  It would be under false pretenses.  I am not the Doctor.  I am, but I'm not.  The Doctor that did all that died and is buried.  I am Arkytior, daughter of Admiral Hawke... but I'm not him.  I only carry his legacy and his name in his stead."

Some of the other Gallifreyans near the back deflated at this, thinking their last hope gone.  The small council did as well.  They were clearly unsure of what to say now.  "She says something that is key," said one woman in the back, and suddenly she found that she had everyone's attention.  "She says she carries his name and his legacy in his stead.  That means all of it.  She has inherited his legacy, his titles and his estate.  She is still our Lady President.  If she is now the Doctor then the decision stands.  There has been a precedent for this is the records."

Everyone turned to the Doctor again and the Cardinal said, "She has a point.  Doctor, you are still our President.  We will follow your lead."

For a moment the Doctor bowed her head and closed her eyes.  There was no way around it.  But, even with this unwelcome development she suddenly saw a certain ability to divert a developing disaster.  She looked up with sudden determination in her eyes.  "I need a cup of tea and a moment with my human friends while I think of a method to move forward with this, Cardinal."

"Then you accept?" he asked.

"I accept.  I am now the Lady President of Gallifrey and the Time Lords."

* * * * * * * * * *

The conference room closed and the Doctor let herself flop into one of the more comfortable arm chairs at the side of the room, not the office chairs at the table itself.  Jackie brought her a cup of tea.  "There you go, dear."

"Thank you Jackie," said the Doctor.  "Oh bugger, that was unexpected and out of left field.  I also think he might not have told you his full... ah... standing in Gallifreyan society."

There was a snort from Jackie.  "Understatement of the century.  I always thought he was some outer space vagrant, not some bloody blue blood in his own private yacht."

"That explains so much about him," laughed Donna.  "Outer space playboy he was, just without the girls."

Pete turned serious.  "If this is true, you've a rather target painted on you and your TARDIS.  You do know what it means for them to reclaim their nation with a president?"

"Depending on how they are going about it... it means war.  It means we are invading Earth, and of all ironies the Doctor is leading the charge."  The Doctor leaned back in her chair.  "My grandfather would be rolling in his grave if he knew this was happening."

"This isn't your doing," said Peter.  "This is those idiots who decided they were going to take a situation and make it ten times worse by kidnapping Autumn.  Much as it pains me, as a human, Doctor, you're in your rights to declare war and invade for the defense of your people.  What they've done is an act of war.  Yes, you may not have a nation anymore but they've disrespected your people nonetheless."

"It's too bad there's no where on Earth we aren't so you could stake a claim and have a nation," mused Jack.

Jackie inclined her head in agreement and Gwen and Mickey looked at each other.  "What if there was?" asked Gwen.

Everyone looked at her.  "There isn't a place on this planet, Gwen," pointed out Jack.

"But there is, unless some country has finally claimed Antarctica," said Mickey.  "It's the one unclaimed continent on the whole world.  Yeah, it's all ice and snow, but there is land underneath it.  And except for penguins and a few research stations, it's no nation on Earth's territory."

"There's a thought," said the Doctor.  "The climate isn't so cold that we couldn't handle it.  I'll tell them to take one ship down there, perhaps the one about to kick off, as well as the other one that works and start building a new Citadel.  It might even be just like home."

"Except for the half a year dark of night and half of year of daylight," pointed out Jackie.

"True, but we are very used to stranger living conditions.  I have a feeling my people would just be happy with someplace to call home that doesn't involve the interior of a TARDIS.  And it is remote and forbidding enough to not interfere with the further development of humanity."  The Doctor stood up.  "Well, on that I think I shall broach it with my Council.  No time like the present.  Not to mention it's time we found my great-grandmother."

* * * * * * * * *

"The top news for today is the protests around the globe in regards to the extraterrestrial refugees.  Dowling Street was shut down due to riots as citizens protest the allocation of government funds to help the Gallifreyans in resettling.  One group maintains that extraterrestrial or not, they are still illegal aliens living on British soil and on government money, no different than the terrestrial kind.  At the same time, another group is maintaining that it is our compassion that sets us apart and we are duty bound to aid the Gallifreyans in resettling.  This scene is all over the world, from in front of the Whitehouse to Parliament Hill in Canada and the Kremlin."

* * * * * * * * *

She didn't have the strength to hold her head up anymore.  The drugs, meant for humans, were making her sick and woozy and although she could metabolize them quickly, the constant slaps to her face were not helping her concentration.  She could sense the other Time Lords, in pens like chattel, where as she was singled out and tied to a chair.  Lights from some sort of display lamp shone on her, hot and bright.

Her hair hung in loose layers, half matted and probably a horrendous mess.  She could feel her swollen lip and the split in it, and the sticky wet that meant the cut in her lip was bleeding.

"Wakey, wakey, Alien Queen," said the man with a very, very thick accent, not a British one but that harsh one like at the meeting.  "Get it?  Alien Queen!"

There was laughter around the room and Autumn lifted her head finally, her vision blurry.  "Why?" she asked in English.

"Because you have something we can use," he answered.  "Technology, medicine, science.  Take your pick.  You, yourself, your very body and the way it works is valuable."

"You cannot unlock our secrets..." she said, letting her head fall back.

She tried to call out telepathically, but the drugs were screwing with her abilities.  "Oh, not us, my dear.  But there were some very interested parties off world that are."

Her eyes widened and she managed to lift her head again, fixing the man with a glare.  For one moment her vision cleared and she managed to connect fuzzily with another Time Lord.  All she could send what what she saw.

"Oh no you don't," he said as his fist connected with her head and everything went black again.

* * * * * * * * * *

 **ACT FOUR**

* * * * * * * * * *

When she came to again there was another man with the first now.  This one was tall, with short graying hair and a graying and short cut beard.  He wore a well cut and well made, not expensive but not cheap either, suit.  There were others with him, all dressed as if they were going to the office.

"Why are there fewer of us?" asked Autumn.

The messier dressed man with the harsh accent and the new people turned to her in surprise.  "I see what you mean by drugs are not the best option... they simply wake up too quickly," said the man in a suit and she recognized his accent as American, likely either East or West Coast, but not heavy like in the southern middle states.  "How much for this one?"

In horror she realized what had been done.  Her people had been sold off as slaves or worse.  She bit down the sudden feeling of rage and then the even colder despair.  "You hypocrites.  You deal with aliens and then do this to us."

"We have done what we have always done to ensure our survival, and the contacts are a necessary evil.  But to have you on our soil is beyond tolerance," said the man with the harsh accent, but she noticed the steely glint in the American's eyes.

"That's Mossad's policy on foreigners?" he asked.

"It was much the same with us... but I always questioned it.  A trait I passed on to my son who often gave his lives in the very defense of Earth.  If he hadn't over and over and over again, you'd be slaves to worse, or this planet would have been a crisp or many other ways it could have all come to an end.  And now his sacrifices are repaid like this!" This final part was said loudly, and she sat there, breathing hard as she fought to regain control over her emotions.

It was then that the last of the drugs were burned out of her system, but she decided to act as if they weren't.  But contact, blessed, blessed contact, had been regained.  She blinked for a long moment as she felt the familiar presence of the Doctor.

"There are many of your people left on Earth.  You hide too well for you all to be caught and the capability to spy is simply to great a risk to ignore... however... I can say I am rather displeased on our international partners decision to sell of the Gallifreyans, and that Mossad has no issue with it."  The American took a breath.  "The US does have a rather large issue with it and we will be dealing with it."

The American looked pointedly at the Israeli and the Russians, who had the grace to look chagrined.  "Considering all that has happened, I regret your decision to land on Earth," said the American, and then he looked at her.  "If you can contact your brethren, I'd suggest leaving.  It'd be safer from these."

"I have been in contact with them for the past five minutes, long enough to learn that we have a new Lord President of the Time Lords, now sworn in and ratified."

"I thought you were the Lady President!" exclaimed the Mossad agent, before he whirled on the American.  "Goddamn CIA!  Your information is yet again wrong!"

The American, the CIA operative, shrugged and Autumn saw the ghost of a smile.  He wasn't on the others sides.  Typical.  Even Gallifrey's 'CIA' had been always playing three ends against the middle.  "I was merely the interim, acting, President.  Not the President.  I was neither sworn in nor ratified by our Council.  And Elder among our kind but no more than that.  Our new President should be rather familiar to you humans - it is the Doctor who now leads our people."

The CIA agent blinked and looked visibly shaken, and he looked to another one, who was gray haired and elder, who also looked rather shocked by the sudden turn of events.  One of the suited men suddenly spoke, and she recognized the British accent.  "If the Doctor is involved, MI-5 is out.  He, er, she, has the personal support of our Queen and is a protector of our realm.  I'm not going up against both our Queen and the Doctor.  I advise not doing so either."

The one from Mossad said, "It's a bluff."

"Is it?" retorted Autumn.

The humans began to squabble amongst themselves, but Autumn saw the CIA and MI-5 agents quietly disengaged from the argument and move behind her.  "Tell me you have one of those uni keys that unlocks everything, Canton," said the lead CIA agent.

"Do I ever go anywhere without it?" asked the second CIA agent, the one named Canton.  "Sorry, ma'am, for the delay in getting here.  I'm a friend of your son's."

"Brax?" she asked in a whisper.

"No, the Doctor," he answered and then she felt the bonds fall away from her wrists and ankles.

"Can you stand?" asked the graying bearded one.

"I think so," she answered and stood, but wobbled and he picked her up.  "I think I'd need at least a first date to be so personal."

"Perhaps you'd settle for my name instead?" He had a pleasant chuckle. "Allen Shapiro, Central Intelligence Agency.  But let's get you out of here first before we get into more introductions."

The others with him unlocked the pens just as the first gunshots rang out and the sound of transmats overlapped.  "I'd say that's their contacts," said Canton.

"I'd say it's time to beat a strategic retreat with the package being secured?" suggested the one from MI-5 as her people started running out.

Lights lit up the warehouse and there was a loud whine of turbine engines.  "Definitely time to get the hell out of here," said Shapiro.  "Don't know what that is, but guessing it's definitely not the Valiant!"

* * * * * * * * *

The Doctor watched from a distance as the joint operation between UNIT and the CIA fell upon the warehouse.  It was equally as sudden that the ship above it, hidden using perception filters, suddenly revealed itself and began to lift off.

The Sontorans.

She cursed and pointed them out to UNIT.

The area soon became a bloody field of battle.  UNIT had to find and arrest the fleeing humans in collusion with the Sontorans while also trying to prevent the transport ship with almost a hundred Gallifreyans on board from leaving.

It wasn't until the planes from the air force arrived that they appeared to be able to prevent it leaving.  Finally, one of the better TARDISes, one built for war, materialized above it and forced it back to the ground in a hard landing.  It counted as a crash, but since it hadn't been that far off the ground, the crash was more a gentle settling but still hard enough that there would be no taking off again.

Shortly after, she could hear the TARDIS engines starting to cut out, and not because it was dematerializing.

It was finally failing.  The second TARDIS was failing... it flew to the side and then slowly, quietly, settled into the sea.  For a moment, it appeared to float... and then it began to sink.  The Doctor could hear the screams of the Time Lords on board as they scrambled to abandon their ship and the cries and death throes of another TARDIS.

Finally those cries silenced forever as the TARDIS sank into the Northern Sea.

* * * * * * * * * *

 _Six weeks later_

* * * * * * * * * *

Jack looked up as the Time Lord entered the Hub.  Everyone looked up and craned their necks as she was accompanied by a small entourage of Time Lord Chancellery Guard as well as a few from UNIT.

She was dressed in a tunic and shaped cloak, but it was an outfit that was reminiscent of both Time Lord clothing and human clothing.  She only had small golden shoulder caps, and no headdress.  There was a sash holding it all together as well as a small golden circlet with a small red gem set into it.

It was the Doctor, dressed informally in her Gallifreyan presidential clothes.  "I didn't think I'd see you so soon," said Jack as he stood up and embraced her.  "How have you been?"

"Busy.  The construction of the new Citadel at Earth's South Pole is proceeding well, but the daily decisions and work of being President keeps me grounded and rather busy," she answered.  "How have you been?"

"Busy," he smiled.  "By the way, I have a surprise for you."

She lifted a brow and followed Jack's gaze as her eyes settled on the young blonde woman.  "Hi... I understand you're my niece."

"Jenny?!" exclaimed the Doctor as she held out her arms.  "Oh, by Rassilon, Jenny!  Grandfather thought you dead."

"I know, they all told me.  I... miss him," she admitted, the smile fading.  "I would like to come with you to the Citadel, help out if you'll have me.  Learn about what I am and who I am."

"You'd be most welcome."

Jenny stood to the side of her just as Drax walked in and then had to look at her twice.  "What is it?" she drawled.

"I thought I saw a ghost," he answered sadly.  "One by the name of Romana."

The Doctor smiled slightly.  "I'm flattered... I truly am."


	2. Pendragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Donna and a new Companion find themselves in the time of Camelot at the end of Vortigern's reign while the Doctor comes to terms with Jack's decision to stay with Ianto in Cardiff.

_**CHAPTER TWO  
Pendragon** _

  
Jack Harkness stepped inside the office and had to stop in surprise.  While he was still out of his comfort zone with all aspects of Gallifreyan architecture, which lent itself to sprawling spires high and massive as the great trees themselves; great arches near-fluid as the beat of giant seabirds’ wings overhead, grand spans of rooms like whale bones set in sand,  this landscape of artifice broken only by the occasional shiny door of some exotic wood, polished and living, each portal aglisten as though the thick grain would soon drip sap.  It wasn't the amount of things you would find in a Time Lord's living space, it was the quality and placement.

It was also cold, somewhat impersonal although in the months that he had been living in the Citadel he had learned the sometimes too subtle differences in tastes between one Time Lord and another.  To an outsider, the spaces where almost alike.  The massive dome was almost complete and it was a good thing as the hint of dark was impending as an Anarctican summer slid into fall.  The dark winter would be nearly unliveable and would perhaps undo the work done to the new Citadel of Time Lords.  Then again, perhaps not.  Not much had been done other than building basic living quarters and a rudimentary landing pad for the five remaining TARDISes in all of existence out of hundreds, perhaps thousands, that had once flown the Vortex before the Last Great Time War.

Jack took a breath and released it.  So much had changed in so short a time.

First, he was happily bouncing around the last TARDIS with the Last of the Time Lords, a shaven headed and leather jacketed Time Lord by the name of the Doctor to suddenly being stranded by him.  And then meeting him again and learning the terrible truth of his race.  And then within a few short years learning that he was dead and meeting his granddaughter who had taken his place and his name in his stead all in order to continue the legacy.  And then to top all that off he had to use the familiar Blue Box to chase after that Doctor to the 52nd century to rescue her from what was left of the Time Lords and her great-uncle Irving Braxiatel and her father Hawke who intended to restart the Last Great Time War by bringing Gallifrey out of the Time Lock.

And now this.

He was well known for being able to roll with the punches but he found his ability to accept being stretched to the very limit.  He... he couldn't believe he was going to admit this... he needed time away from anything related to the Doctor and her Time Lord problems.  He fully supported her as a person, but things were so messed up that he needed to recharge his batteries, and she... wasn't the same person he had travelled with.  She was the Lady President of the Time Lord High Council,  and thoroughly snarled by the task of pulling her people up out of self destruction and back into some semblance of their former greatness, a state worthy of those needful labels of nation and power.

The Doctor had retreated, like she (and he) always had.  The easy rapport was gone and in its place something colder, like the Time Lords themselves, had taken root.  The Doctor had pulled on the robes and the cool facade in the same breath.

Ianto said the same thing of Autumn, only the gulf between them was larger due to a few centuries or more of time between them.  He found himself in competition with Sir Alistair, of all people, and as he admitted to Jack, there was simply no contest.

In that same night, and after a few drinks, it had only been natural that he and Ianto all but picked up where they had left off before the Four-Five-Six, but with a bit of mutual catching up with the missed time in between.  At first it had started as mutual agreement - perhaps if they could help themselves through the gulf between them for the same reason it would help them bridge the gap with their other partners.

It hadn't ended like that.  It had certainly bridged a gap - between themselves.  Jack never regretted travelling with Fifteen, nor what they had shared, but the fact that she brought back Ianto told him she had to at least half-expected this to happen.

And now he came to do the right thing and tell her.  He was a 51st century fellow.  He had no issues or hang ups in sharing or loving everyone in the relationship.  He, however, suspected how things might go.  Time Lords were worse, and conversely better, than Victorian era British in their social conventions and hang ups.  The Doctor would definitely have an issue, and he knew it.

He just hoped that he wasn't about to shatter her hearts over this.

As it was, the person in the office was the Doctor, he just hadn't recognized her until she had looked up and he made eye contact and that familiar thrill right behind his rib cage hit him, and sent other signals to his brain and then, perversely -- especially concerning why he was here in the first place -- straight to his groin.  She smiled, and the cold exterior of the Time Lord was dispelled even though she was dressed in the full formal robes of her office, the staff leaning on the desk.  She must have just come from a Council meeting or something.

"Wow, Doctor... I almost didn't recognize you," he said.

"Hello Jack, what do want?" she asked, and it wasn't sharp or anything; just to the point.

"Whatever you do," he answered as he leaned in past the awkward shoulder pauldron to kiss her on the cheek.  "Listen, maybe this has been months in coming..."

There was a flicker of something across her face but it was gone so quickly he wasn't sure if he had imagined it.  "I just wanted to thank you.  For Ianto," finished Jack.  "I know this isn't a good time for you, or whatever we might have been or will be, but I can see that whatever that is it isn't right now.  And that's okay.  I'm immortal and you're a Time Lord that will live for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.  But Ianto won't have that... and I'll be damned if I waste what little time we might have this time around.  I just wanted to thank you for that second chance with him."

"It was... you're welcome Jack." She smiled, that familiar smile that Ten would smile that didn't reach the eyes.

"So, when you figure out this, I'll be waiting," Jack swept her into a hug, noting that the robes had numerous layers and she was all but lost in their voluminous depth.  "I would have been more fifty first century, but I know you wouldn't be comfortable with that... so... this is until later."

With that he left the office.  She stood there, stock still while she took in what just had happened.  Her shared memories with her grandfather had seen numerous instances just like this over and over, unless he had decided that it was time on his own.  It hurt and left that same hollowed out feeling right between the two hearts.

But Jack?

Where had that come from?  At least when other Companions had decided to leave the Doctor it was at least expected.  Little cues, things just not being the same or signs that they were growing past him or he of them.  But Jack had her constant... one of the few she didn't think would leave her.

The Doctor felt something rise from the hollow spot between her hearts and up into her throat until it felt like she was strangling or drowning.  She turned from her assistant as he walked in and ran past him, out into the hall.  She didn't remember the run straight back to her House.  All she remembered that once she felt the familiarity of her family and the query from Autumn it was all she could do to just strip off everything that had pushed Jack away from her.

The first to hit the cultured stone floor was the shoulder and headpieces, and then she only stopped long enough to pull the Sash off from over her head before she unfastened the robes and threw them to the floor in a heap as she ran into her private quarters.  Now only dressed in the loose tunic top and pants she pulled the key from around her neck and flung open the TARDIS doors to run to the console.  The only reason she didn't finally collapse in front of the console was that she clutched onto the sides of it, her sides heaving in dry sobs as she half knelt in front of it as she held her up.

Now she knew why her grandfather had never, ever, left the TARDIS for anyone.

People left... the TARDIS did not.

Oh how she had learned that lesson, so well... if too late!

She put her head into one hand while still clutching at the controls.  She could feel the tiniest of vibration through her hand, as if the TARDIS was trying to console her by mentally sending soothing whispers.  The Doctor never heard the doors open if she indeed had even closed them, but minutes later there was a set of hands on her shoulders and another where her hand met the console and someone else gathering her up into a hug.  She squeezed her eyes shut and hung on to that person as if they were the only thing holding her reality.  Perhaps they were.  "Hey, hey... what's the matter?" asked Donna from somewhere behind her.

"I cannot see any danger, Madam," she heard from the doors.... Leela.

Which meant the person holding her was Autumn and possibly the other holding her hand was Jenny.  "Jack..." breathed the Doctor.  "He's gone back to Ianto."

"You and Jack...?" asked Donna, and she heard the surprise in the woman's voice.  "I thought that was an act for the benefit of your covers with Torchwood."  The Doctor shook her head.  "Silly martian -- always talking but never saying anything." There was a note of sadness and sympathy in Donna's voice.  "Like someone else I knew."

The four other women stayed like that until the Doctor began to calm down, with Autumn smoothing her hair until finally the sobs stopped.  Autumn released her when the Doctor pulled away and Donna pulled out tissues and dried her eyes.  "I don't want to be here right now.  This caused the rift, the distance, that finally pushed Jack away." The Doctor looked up and over at Autumn.  "I leave the Presidency to you.  It's yours.  Take it or do with it what you will.  Donna... Jenny..."

"Oh, don't be daft," stated Donna.  "If you think I'm leaving you alone after this you've another thing coming.  And even then, you damn well know I wouldn't stay behind."

"I'm coming too," said Jenny.  "I missed my opportunity on Messaline.  I won't miss it again."

The Doctor stood up and looked at Leela.  "I will stay here with Autumn," said Leela.

Autumn nodded.  "I will keep the office until you return.  You will be our President; it is only right that it rest in the hands of a future generation."

The Doctor shook her head, but didn't argue.  Finally she hugged both Autumn and Leela, who wasn't comfortable with the hug, but she didn't fight it either.  "See you around," said the Doctor as Autumn and Leela stepped off of the TARDIS.

They watched fade from view just as the Chancellery Guard ran in. "Where is the Lady President?!" demanded the Cardinal.

Autumn nodded as the TARDIS finally vanished.  "The Doctor is as the Doctor does.  Abdicated but left me in her place until another election can be called.  She did what we needed to have done.  Let us move forward and honour that work."

* * * * * * * *

 **ACT ONE**

* * * * * * * *

  
The Doctor stepped back out of the TARDIS after the sound of the engines had quieted.  For a long moment she stood and looked around in vague confusion.  Moments later Donna stepped out and was just as confused as she was.

Jenny walked out and then whirled around, arms in the air.  "The air is so clean!" she exclaimed.  "Where are we?  It's so beautiful!"

"It should be," remarked the Doctor as she gazed through the trees and up at the clearing with an all too familiar set of stones which sat on a hill.  "I think we're in pre-Britain... Britain.  If I'm not mistaken, near what will be or already is Salisbury."

"We can go anywhere and any-when and you take us back to bloody England," stated Donna, although the statement held far more amusement than it did bite.  "When exactly are we, Space Girl?"

"Approximately fifth to sixth century... I think.  Not sure," answered the Doctor and then she was bodily dragged back into the TARDIS, along with Jenny, by Donna.  "What the...?"

"If we're going to be in this time, the last thing we want is to be singled out for being too obviously out of place.  The centuries you're talking about, Doctor, are ones of warring tribes and a massive power struggle between what remains of the last, real, druids and the Christian priests.  It's during this time that King Arthur supposedly was set."

"Vortigern," murmured the Doctor as she dressed in what Donna gave her, slipping the sonic screwdriver into an inside pocket.

Technically the clothes weren't supposed to have pockets but the TARDIS was taking liberties again in order to help her pilot.  Jenny still looked mostly puzzled.  "Clearly there is something about this point that has the two of you nervous."

"A tribal warlord with delusions of grandeur.  It is too bad that he's not totally delusional," explained the Doctor, with a sigh.  "History isn't one hundred percent clear on it but this is about the time that the Romans either pulled out of Britain or were in the process of doing so as the Roman Empire collapsed around them.  The time of Constantine the Third.... Don't quote me on it though.  My sense of history comes from the 22nd century and much was lost to history, especially with the invasion of the Daleks in my time and the destruction of much of the written accounts and the memory banks."

"You're mostly right anyway."  This from Donna.  "I paid attention in history, and there's just not a lot known about this era other than what you've already said.  However, I can add to it that Vortigern is supposedly to have some connection to King Arthur, or at least the mythical Merlin, according to the old legend."

"I thought as a Time Lord you could sense when and where we are?" asked Jenny.

The Doctor put a finger to the side of her nose.  "I only can do that when I have a frame of reference.  My... our... abilities develop over time and experience.  Some could do with very little to go on, my grandfather was... oddly... one of those.  However, we all have limitations.  Sensing the Weave requires contact with people and events, not just a quick step onto a world in a given time period unless the vibrations that make up the Weave are particularly strong.  At the moment... I don't sense anything strong enough other than a vague sense."

With the three of them at least appearing to fit into the century they walked back out of the massive multiple floor closet, through the console room and outside again.  The Doctor pulled the door closed and felt the satisfying snick sound of the lock engaging as they faced what was outside.

The men were armed with old, very old, Roman style pilum and armoured in ragtag armour that was at once Roman but also moving into the distinctive chain and plate that the time period.  They were, now that she could see them, obviously British Romans or the vestiges of a falling Empire.

* * * * * * * *

  
 _Earth  
Six Weeks Before_

"I get that we need to organize a Council," said the Doctor.  "I'm just saying that I do not wish to appoint one.  We need to do this properly, with elections of Time Lords who are eligible for being on the High Council, and then further elections for those on the Outer Council.  I will appoint a Chancellor, if that helps, who will help with the logistics of figuring all that out."

"Given the state of emergency that we are in, it would be far quicker for you to simply choose those you feel best qualified," insisted Narvin.  "I know it's not the greatest solution, but a quick consolidation of power is better..."

"...No... that would undermine the democracy of it," she answered.  "We're trying to solve the former issues that led to the fall of Gallifrey, remember?  Not start them over again and create a never ending loop of destruction and betrayal."

Narvin sighed, but she caught the smile he tried to hide.  "You remind me of President Romana so much... and then conversely of your grandfather.  I think they'd both be very proud of you."

"Flatterer," she accused, but the tone took the bite out of it.

Jack walked in and heard the last bit, and she saw the slight frown on his face.  "Shoo, Narvin.  I've made up my mind."

"Am I missing something?" asked Jack as Narvin bowed gracefully and left.

"Nothing you'd rather miss.  Gallifreyan politics..." she shrugged her shoulders as she picked the lint of her robes.  "... is a minefield of barely hidden allegiances and convolutions of propriety and feuds that last centuries between old enemies, and then longer between Houses and Chapters."

"Nasty," murmured Jack as he sat behind her and rubbed her back, but she remained tense and barely acknowledged that he was there.

With a bit of a sigh, Jack gave up on it.

She walked around the small office.  It was cramped and looked nothing like a presidential office, but he could see the vestiges of their technology and other cultural bits here and there.  Crystal matrix readers and graceful carved chairs out of a deep red wood with silver veins.

"I don't understand what they want me to do!  I know we cannot fall into the same pitfalls as we did to bring us to this point, but change to a Gallfreyan... it's not an easy thing to bring about.  They are all so mired and still so shockingly complacent.  As if now that we have some sort of homeland that it will all suddenly start working out.  As if Gallifrey will suddenly pop back into existence and everything will go back to the way it was before."

"Not a good thing, I take it?"

"No, not at all.  The complacency is what caused our downfall... what made it possible for Rassilon to step in and nearly ruin everything... bring it all to an end.  Not just for us, but for everything and everyone."  The Doctor sighed, swamped with her borrowed memories of when Gallifrey loomed over Earth like some sort of strange moon, when the Earth was literally the Master... and of seeing Rassilon in his full insane glory.  "How did we fail to see it?"

"Sorry, what?" asked Jack, puzzled.

The Doctor shook her head.  "It's nothing.  I'm sorry, Jack, I've not been myself since this whole mess and it isn't fair to you."

He smiled as he touched her cheek and she let herself lean into the touch, but at a sharp knock at the door, she pulled away and missed the faintly hurt look on Jack's face.  "What is it now?" she muttered, then clearly and loudly.  "Yes, come in!"

* * * * * * * *

  
The village wasn't a large village -- nor would it be in the future -- but right now it was little else but a small stop on the road with little else but a small inn, a stable and perhaps a marketplace for the farmers.

All this had been taken over by the Vortigern and his war effort.

The Doctor, Donna and Jenny found themselves escorted clear through the village and into a larger domed hut.  It was the predecessor to the community hall of modern times, but made of wood and thatch.  This building also doubled as a church, if the priest that stood to the side of the seated man meant anything.

The Doctor stepped forward.  "Greetings, and thank you for your hospitality."

"Who are you?" asked the Vortigern.

"I'm the Doctor.  I'm just passing through with my two travelling companions."

"How is a woman a doctor?" asked Vortigern, his eyes suspiciously thinning at the same time.

For a long moment the Doctor was quiet, realizing her error.  Women were not given a whole lot of independence.  They were little else but puppets and possessions at this point... at least outwardly.  "Where I come from, women are accorded more independence, more direct powers than here.  However, we find ourselves... lost.  Our menfolk all but abandoned us.  Cowards, the lot of them.  Good riddance, if you ask me."

She wasn't sure if this mollified him or not, but at that point the priest pointed out, "Woman or not, a person of the medical arts is a boon in a time of war, my lord Vortigern.  And perhaps it is the work of our Lord God that their men were led astray and to more pious people."

"Or they are spies," said another of Vortigern's men.

"Enough, the priest has a valid point.  They stay, but they stay in my sight and close to the camp," ordered Vortigern.

"Is there something amiss?" asked the Doctor.

"You, my lady, should know if there is," stated Vortigern coldly as he stood and walked to her.

The tiny Doctor had to crane her neck to look up at Vortigern, who while wasn't the tallest Briton she'd heard of was still tall.  "I am sorry, but I do not," answered the Doctor.

"I am in the middle of a war between us Britons and you Saxons.  That you are here tells me they are far closer than I would find comfortable," he answered, and his tone told her that was far more than he'd wanted to say.

The Doctor blinked but Donna asked before she could.  "Excuse me, sir, we are not Saxon either... as we said we are alone.  Who are the leaders of these Saxons?"

Vortigern sighed heavily and said, "You should be telling me who is; why do you stubbornly insist that you cannot know?"

"Because we do not," answered the Doctor, sharply.

"They are Hengest and Horsa, damn them."  And the tone this time was not unlike a heavy gate slamming shut.  "You, priest, will be their personal guard since you're so keen on keeping them around instead of killing them as the spies they are.  If they end up being spies, it will be on your head."

The Doctor paled as finally her connection to the Weave snapped into place and she suddenly knew when, and where, they were.  Vortigern, thankfully, hadn't noticed and if he did he attributed it to the fact that she held little love for either party.  She couldn't be sure.  He breezed by her as if she wasn't worth anymore of his time, as did the rest of his men.  Only the priest remained behind.  He led them off to another room.  "I am sorry for Vortigern's abruptness.  He usually isn't so inhospitable, especially to women, but the stresses of the coming battle tax his patience to the breaking point.  Your arrival is simply ill-timed."

"That is understandable, Father," answered the Doctor, and she noted his surprise.  "We may come from elsewhere, but we have heard of Christianity."

"God be praised for that, I had feared you to be heathens," he said, then noted her raised brows.  "Ah, but you have heard of it, not encountered it.  Forgive me for assuming.  Perhaps we can talk later?"

"Not wanting us killed over it?" asked Donna, mildly sarcastic.

"What?!  Heavens no!" the priest was honestly horrified at the thought.  "Is that what you think we do?"

When only uncomfortable silence met his question he sighed.  "Perhaps it is true, perhaps not.  I am not well travelled enough myself to know.  I just know what I would not do while using the Lord's name as an excuse.  He taught love and understanding, not hate and bigotry."  He looked at them in askance.  "Perhaps it is something we all should learn from."

"You seem very gentle," answered the Doctor.  "I wouldn't think you would have done anything untoward, however, the company you keep is not above it."

"I cannot speak for them, but I can say it is the war that puts everyone on edge.  Normally it isn't so," he protested.  "This village was my own and now there is nothing left but me and the soldiers."

"That's horrible!' exclaimed Jenny.

The priest looked a bit sad, and then he turned to the door, and for a half second appeared to think.  "Oh, where are my manners!  I have guests and I have not thought to offer you refreshment.  Perhaps some wine with meat and bread?  I do not have much to offer, I am afraid.  It's very simple fare.  I would have far better...."

"But with the war," said the Doctor.  "Yes, we understand and thank you."

The priest left and the three women turned to each other once the door closed.  With another sigh of her own, the Doctor sat heavily on the carved wooden chair in the room.  Donna walked around the very simple room and Jenny looked around with great interest.  "It seems very... ah..."

"Primitive?" asked the Doctor, gently.

"I was going to say simple and rustic," she answered.  "But now that you mention it, yes, very."

"Rustic is a very generous word," said Donna.  "So, when are we?  I saw that look you had when that Vortigern fellow finally got around to telling us who he was, and who he was fighting."

"We are in the year 455... ish, by your local reckoning," answered the Doctor.  "There is about to be, or we are in the midst of, a series of battles that will culminate at the battle of Aylesford where Vortigern will be defeated by Hengest and Horsa... although Horsa will not survive to see it, as I understand."

* * * * * * * *

 **ACT TWO**

* * * * * * * *

  
Very quietly, the priest... a man by the name of Dugan... backed away as silently as he had approached the door.  He caught only the last bit, about the battle of Aylesford and when he had heard it he had crept closer to listen in.

He was a man of God, but he was also Briton and his allegiances greatly were to his mortal lord, Vortigern.  He had thought they were discussing the battle and what they had learned.  He was saddened to think that these three women were indeed spies but if they were they needed to be reported.

Dugan was far more shocked by the fore knowledge, and the gentle voices stating that this inn was primitive, rustic and simple suggesting they were used to something far more grand. It made a small part of him ashamed that he didn't have better to offer.

And then... "Vortigern will be defeated by Hengest and Horsa... although Horsa will not survive to see it..."

He backed away.  Such things were words of prophecy, not words said by spies.  He crossed himself quickly and then caught a glimpse of the old carvings that the more rural folk had on their homes.  Dugan was one of those rural folk but had been lucky enough to be sent to a proper school where he learned letters and of the word of God.

However... he was still his mother's son and born from this very village where the mostly pagan townsfolk prayed to God on Sunday to save their souls and then revered the Triple Aspect of Maiden, Mother and Crone for everything else.

Maiden... mother... and crone...

 _Oh dear God_ , he realized.  _It's them!  They walk among us!  Oh Father, who rules in Heaven, forgive me but the Mother who Walks the Earth is before me!_

Right after he finished crossing himself, he made the five fold star to ask for Her to forgive him for ever doubting Her and knocked quickly on the door before leaving the tray at the door.  He was a man, not worthy to walk in Her shadow.  Not as this, one that preached that She did not exist and that She was false and now had been proved wrong.

* * * * * * * *

  
 _Earth  
Five Weeks Before  
Cardiff_

Ianto watched as Jack paced in his office, his cell phone held to his ear and as Jack, with a heavy sigh, flipped it closed.  It had been like this all week.  Jack would call, and stand there for a few seconds while it likely rang, and rang... and rang some more.  But, whomever he was calling wouldn't pick up.

He knew who Jack was trying to call.

The Doctor.

But, again and again, Jack would find himself not able to get a hold of her.  Finally, Jack called another number and he could see the short conversation....

* * * * * * * *

  
"Presidential Private Office line," came the clipped, efficient tone of the Gallifreyan, or human, on the other end.  "Whom may I say is calling?"

"Hi, Leela... it's Jack.  I realize you said she'd call me back, but I haven't heard from her."

"Oh, Jack Harkness!" Leela's voice brightened.  "The Doctor still has not contacted you?"

"No," Jack sighed again, closing his eyes.  "I know she's really, truly busy, but I haven't heard from her in a week and was wondering if everything was all right."

"She is well," answered Leela.  "But truly busy, as you say.  Perhaps I could pass along the message that you would like to hear from her?"

"Leela..." Jack groaned.  "It's been a week and she still hasn't."

"I am sorry, Jack, but she is..."

"...Busy, I know..." finished Jack, sitting down heavily in a chair.  "Just tell her I'm thinking of her, okay?"

"I shall do so.  I am sure she is thinking of you fondly as well."

The call was terminated and Jack murmured, "That's something at least."

* * * * * * * *

  
Dugan sat in the clearing and tried to meditate.  It was the same clearing he had been raised in as a boy and he kept thinking back to that time.  It had been many, many years and he was no longer a boy.  He was an older man and very set in his ways.  For things to change in his mind took a great shock to the system and he had now had it.

He remembered, as a boy, how his parents would come to this clearing every summer solstice and dance with the other villagers.  He had been too young to really understand what was going on, but knew enough to know that it was a ritual to honour the changing seasons and their tie to the land and the turn of the Wheel.

The memories were very fuzzy, after all almost forty summers had passed since that young boy of seven had last been here for such a purpose, but he remembered the ritual and how it had been dedicated to the Three-Fold Goddess, much like how he now worshipped the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  A trinity dedicated to a Goddess of the people where the trinity of the church was far more, to the local people, meant for the nobility and those connected directly to Rome.

Most paid a lip service to God and Christ, went to church when they ought to, and appeared to all but the most stringent of eyes Christian.  However, once out of the church and into day to day life things had not really changed.  The Druids even 'converted' but not really.  What was another college to them, really?

Speaking of which, an older man, one that had introduced him to the monks of his order and then spoken for him when he expressed an interest in learning letters and schooling, walked into the clearing and sat down beside him.  "It has been many years since you meditated in this clearing.  A man of God often contemplates in his church."

"A man of the Goddess and God meditates where they are known to be."  Dugan took a breath, knowing the Druid was going to think him mad.  "I've seen, no, met the Goddess in her three forms.  I was a man of Christ, a man of the church, and now I feel as if I've had my rock ripped out from under me."

For a very long moment, the Druid thought about this in silence while Dugan fidgeted nervously.

Finally.  "Are you sure?  Sometimes when someone wants to see something they do.  It does not mean they have."

"I did not think I had until it was all but a fry pan to the face about it," answered Dugan.  "The three women found in the forest... they know the outcome of the coming battle in Aylesford.  They speak of it as if it has already happened, there is no doubt and no questioning.  I am sure, with your connections, you already know the tale of how they were found."

There was a thoughtful hum from the Druid.  "They could be mad.  Wouldn't be the first time."

"They do not seem it.  But they are not normal, and they are not familiar with the lay of the land.   Well, with the lay of it, yes, but not the people or its concerns.  What little they know it is of only major concerns."

"An interesting theory, one that begs testing.  Would Vortigern allow it?"

"Bah, he doesn't even realize what he has."  Dugan scoffed at this.  "He is determined to leave for Aylesford at dawn tomorrow.  He would not give us time for testing this theory, even if he were not leaving.  You know him.  He is no man of God, let alone of the Goddess."

"Well, there is another way.  You must either see that they stay behind."

"And if they do not?"

"Then you go with them."  The Druid leaned back against a tree.  "Watch and listen.  Look to disprove your theory.  Look to prove it.  See every angle.  Remember, there is always six sides to every tale, not just two.  Find them and know the truth of these women.  Gods, Fey or not, watching them and finding out their mystery is warranted."

"It will be as you say, Elder."  Dugan inclined his head as the Druid got up and left.

"I think I shall walk in the forest.  I has been many weeks since I did so."

* * * * * * * *

 **ACT THREE**

* * * * * * * *

  
The next day the Doctor, Donna and Jenny were rudely awoken by Vortigern.  Or rather, as the case was, by one of his men.  The Doctor got up at the insistent banging at the door and unbarred it, flinging it wide and staring down the armoured man that was not quite twice her size.  "What is it?" she demanded.

"Lord Vortigern wishes your presence, now, my Lady.  You and your companions are to be ready to travel within the hour," he relayed and, his message relayed, he turned to leave.

"Excuse me?" asked the Doctor.  "What do you mean, 'ready to travel'?"

The knight sighed, then turned.  "You are going with him to Aylesford, and that is final."

"We shall see," she murmured before she closed the door, turning to Donna and Jenny.  "Get up and dressed.  Vortigern is demanding we travel with him, and if he insists, I would rather us be prepared for the travel than have to leave things behind or be caught unprepared.  I will go talk to him and see if he will see reason."

The Doctor dressed quickly, bound up her hair, and made sure her sonic screwdriver and psychic paper were with her as well as what else she carried with her in her travel bag.  She then left the room and walked out of the inn where Vortigern was already astride his fully barded horse.  She took note of the fact that the village seemed suddenly deserted.  "Lord Vortigern, I trust there is a good reason to drag a Lady from her rest before dawn."

"You seem none the worse for wear for it, my Lady, might you be strangely stronger of fortitude?" he asked, and although the words were polite the tone wasn't.  "I do happen to have a reason to 'drag you out of bed', as you put it.  You and your handmaidens will travel with me and my army to Aylesford, and that is final."

"I would prefer to remain here," she answered, ignoring the last part of his statement.

"You are in no position to negotiate, Lady Doctor.  And even if you were, what would you do once the entire village leaves you behind?  There will be no one here."  There was an amused tone to this, and then he hardened again.  "I need every body for the battles to come and you and your assistants, handmaidens or whatever you call them are required."

"Lord Vortigern, I must protest... their presence at Aylesford is not necessary... in fact I would suggest they remain behind.  It would be better..." interjected the priest, and the Doctor looked over at him in surprise at his sudden turnabout.

"Nonsense, Father.  They are absolutely necessary, as you said before.  Why the sudden change of heart?" Vortigern's eyes thinned in sudden suspicion.  "Unless you now believe me that they are spies?"

"No, my lord, but I..." the priest trailed off.

"Out with it, man," growled Vortigern.

"It is nothing, my lord.  It shall be as you say."

"Of course it will be.  Useless priest."  He turned to the Doctor again just as Jenny and Donna were coming out of the inn.  "Make ready.  We travel now."

"As you say," said the Doctor as Donna came up to them.  "We're going with them.  Nothing I can say will change his mind."

"Wonderful," muttered Donna.  "How far is Aylesford from here?"

"It is a fortnight travel by horse, if not for the armies.  It may take up to a week," answered the priest apologetically.  "I am sorry, I knew you would not want to go.  I tried to change his mind, but in doing so I only served to make him more suspicious of you."

"A week?" asked Donna, with a groan.  "Oh, how lovely."

"How bad can it be?" asked Jenny, her eyes dancing with the thought of an adventure.

"If you're not used to riding a horse, not great," answered the Doctor.  "Depending on the saddle, outright torture."

"The lady Doctor can ride a horse?" asked the priest.

"I can," answered the Doctor.  "Depending on the saddle..."

* * * * * * * *

  
 _Three weeks before  
Earth - Cardiff_

Jack looked up and found a fresh cup of coffee sitting on his desk and Ianto sitting across from him, smiling over his own coffee.  "What?" asked Jack.

"It just occurred to me that you and I have the same problem."

"Oh?"

"You have this 'Doctor' issue and I have this 'Autumn' issue."  Ianto took a sip of his coffee.  "And we have an issue with each other."

"I don't follow," said Jack as he crinkled his brows.

"Listen, I realize that for you to pick up with me after was a bit unfair.  For you... how many years went by with you thinking me dead until the Doctor brought be on board the TARDIS?"

Jack was silent for a very long time until Ianto filled the silence.  "I did some reading.  I died in 2009.  You didn't, couldn't, do anything until - to Gwen's reckoning - 2012.  That's three years, Jack.  But, you also travelled a bit with the Doctor, so, what?  It's been more like four?"

"Something like that, yeah," answered Jack.

"You'd moved on.  For you, I was gone for four years.  For me, I had only seen you the previous day.  I was hurt you'd moved on, although logically I could see why you had to.  And, lo and behold, the very one you'd moved onto was the one I was travelling with.  You hadn't seen it yet, and neither had she, but there it was.  That was a bit hard to take, as much as I loved you both and loved travelling with her at the same time.  When I saw Autumn again..." Ianto trailed off.  "Suddenly, it was the same thing again.  The last time we saw her was in 2008 but, typical for a Time Lord, easily a few hundred or more years had slid by.  She hadn't moved on, not really, but at the same time so much had happened in between that she had to as well.  Again, I was left behind."

Jack thought about this for a very long time.  "It doesn't mean we don't love you.  Hell, I missed... miss... you terribly.  I would have given my left and right legs to have you back and I was literally over the moon when I did get you back."

"Yes, but your heart belongs to another."

"Ianto, I don't know how to explain this, but the 51st century isn't like this one when it comes to love and partnerships."

"I get that!" exclaimed Ianto as he stood up.  "But are you really that 51st century man anymore?  Sure, you're open minded, but even I can see how you get when you perceive someone else moving into what you consider yours.  I remember how you looked at Tokugawa when he tried to woo the Doctor."

Jack rubbed a hand over his face.  "What are you saying, Ianto?"

"Is she still yours?"

"What?" asked Jack, in shock.

"Jack, it's been how long since you heard from her last?  Three weeks?  Maybe four?  She's a Time Lord... think about what Sarah Jane Smith and the others said about the Doctor when he went missing for that long and then how long he'd really, truly, been away."

"She's just in Antarctica..."

"Is she really?  Is that really why Leela hasn't been able to connect your calls to her?  Remember, the Time Lords are scattered and she lost some in that Sontoran slaving fiasco last month.  Would she tolerate her people being slaves without...?"  Ianto trailed off but inwardly smiled as the realization dawned on Jack's face.

"...No, she wouldn't.  She's like her grandfather in that way," Jack realized darkly.  "But she wouldn't leave me behind."

"Jack, I'm not doing this to cast doubt in your mind, but, okay, I will admit I'd love to do just that, but in this case I'm not and there's no easy way to say it, but here... please don't hate me... or her because I love her to death -- as much as I love you... but because I love you both I think you need to see this..."

Jack looked at the data-pad and saw the evidence staring him the face.

The Doctor wasn't even on the planet.

* * * * * * * *

  
The week was long, particularly the first few days for the women to get used to the saddles they were assigned.  Thankfully, the concept of a side saddle hadn't been invented yet and the early saddle was not that far off the modern Western saddle, only without stirrups which made riding slightly challenging in that there was no way to support herself in the saddle using her legs other than bracing her knees along the side of the horse.  The first day, the Doctor could barely move for being so 'saddle-sore' and she saw that Donna and Jenny weren't much better.

The second day, she learned to brace with her knees and found her seat and fared far better.  On the third, she showed Jenny and Donna the trick and they found themselves less sore.

By the time a fortnight had passed, they were riding with as much confidence as the others.

Vortigern had taken notice and, uncharacteristically, allowed the Doctor to ride with him one morning during the travel.  "You learned to ride very quickly, my Lady.  I can see why your father allowed you to become a doctor in the end.  You have a very resilient mind and body, both are strong."

"Do I meet with your approval?" asked the Doctor, mildly amused and lifted a brow to show her friendly intent with it.

Vortigern chuckled, a deep chuckle that seemed to come from his very core.  "Were I not already married, I would bed you and then claim you as my own.  I can only imagine the strong sons that could come from you."  He caught her dark look.  "I would not be taking a virgin to my bed, would I?"

"I have already been married, and had my son," she answered.

"Will I meet your husband or son on the field of battle?" he asked, again probing her, she knew.

"Hardly.  My husband is long dead and my son very far from these shores, or any you know," she answered.  "You will not see either."

"I see," he answered, suddenly thoughtful.  "You know, I think I am starting to believe you.  You are not Saxon, nor Briton.  I think you maybe Roman... true Roman. You have that bearing the legends and histories speak of.  But why would a Roman be so far from Rome?"

"Were I Roman, I could give you an answer."

"So many mysteries about you!  One question answered and two more crop up.  The men whisper that you are not from any mortal shore, that you are Fey-kind."  Vortigern chuckled again.  "Were I a man to believe in such tales, I would begin to think the rumours true."

With that he rode forward, and she turned to see the priest who had been listening very attentively to their conversation, a thoughtful expression on his face.  She turned back to watch Vortigern's retreating back and did not see the priest make the sign of the five-fold star within a circle behind her back.

* * * * * * * *

 **ACT FOUR**

* * * * * * * *

  
They crested one last hill and the three women could see the enemy camp laid out across the plain, on the other side of a small deserted village.  The Doctor leaned over to them and said, "Aylesford."

"So, we are here then," said Jenny.

"Yes," answered the Priest.  "My ladies, I must ask your blessing, and for you to forgive me."

"What and what?" asked Donna, in confusion.

"This past week, I have been in doubt, then so sure, then in doubt again... but today I know and believe."  He knelt in front of them.  "I was raised in the village where we first met, and my mother and father, as well as most of the village, paid lip service to the church, but in reality still followed the old ways.  Druidism is dying out, but many of them hide themselves in other things.  I was not so lucky -- I was sent to the monastery at a young age and came to love God, and I forsook my Gods."

"I'm not sure how we fit in this," said Donna, looking at the Doctor whose expression was one of dawning horror.  "But I have a feeling we're about to."

"I heard the three of you talk the night before Vortigern ordered you to come with us," he confessed.  "I heard your prophecy.  I understand that his insult and his temerity at ordering ones such as yourselves must be punished... but I ask you to have mercy on his men and the people of his village."

"Uhm...."  Now even Jenny was looking at the Doctor in confusion, getting the feeling that something was now very far out of hand.

"Father, I think you misunderstood our talk," said the Doctor as she knelt down with him.  "We are not Gods."

"Then you are Fey?"

"Nor that," answered Donna.  "I'm as human as you."

"Is this true?" he asked, in shock, looking from the Doctor to Jenny and back again.  "Then what of you?"

"Well... we're not Fey, nor are we Gods, but we are not from around here, if that is what you mean," explained the Doctor.  "And it was not prophecy... oh... how am I to explain this."

"You are not the Three-Fold Goddess?  The Crone, Matron and Maiden?" he asked, surprised.

"What is this about them being the Crone, Matron and Maiden?" came Vortigern's voice.  "That is ridiculous."

"Sire, it is not... think about it... they cannot say where they are from but they simply appeared from no where.  Remember how your men found them.  They walked out from a cavern, a blue tree that no one had ever seen before and with wood unlike anything anyone had seen before.  This is not the work of mortal hands!" exclaimed the priest.  "You talked with this one.  She said she was no maiden, no virgin.  Married, has a son.  Widowed.  Think about the tale of the Matron.  The Mother whose husband becomes her son and circles around again.  This one, the more mature one, while no crone can only be the Crone."

"Watch it, Sunshine, or I'll show you who is a crone!" exclaimed Donna.

"And then we have this one, so innocent, but yet not... a Maiden unlike any we ever seen.  Tell me, has a man ever touched you?" asked the Priest.

"Well, one did but I flipped him and had to lock him in a cage..." explained Jenny.

"He means have you been with a man," said the Doctor.  "As in slept with one, without actually sleeping."

"Oh, uhm... no..." answered Jenny, blushing deep red.

For a long moment, Vortigern was silent as he regarded the three women and then he turned a sickly shade of pale.  "Oh.  Oh... by the God and the singular All-Father."

"I tried to tell you, my lord," murmured the priest as he bowed his head.  "I tried to make you let them stay behind."

"I have transgressed on something ancient," said Vortigern.  "Can you forgive me?"

The Doctor thought about it and then sighed.  "Who is to say we weren't supposed to be here?  And we are not Gods... this is a horrible misunderstanding.  An incredible coincidence, I assure you.  We are as mortal as you."

"Servants of the Goddess, then?" asked Vortigern.  "That would explain how you became a doctor..."

"Nor that!  Lord Vortigern, you must believe me when I say we had no intention of even meeting you, seeing you or ever encountering your men.  We did not even know there was a war brewing until we met you.  All we wished was to be..." she trailed off.  "It doesn't matter now."

"What will happen tomorrow?" asked Vortigern.

The Doctor remained silent.  "Tell him!" shouted the priest.  "Tell him what I heard you say in the inn!  Tell him what happens tomorrow!"

"I cannot!" shouted the Doctor back.  "If I do, it could change and it must not."

"You do know what happens then?" asked Vortigern.

"I..." the Doctor trailed off and then turned away.

"We aren't from here!" exclaimed Jenny.  "We aren't even from this time!  We are mortal like you, yes, but it isn't a matter of where, it's when.  Donna is British, from Chiswick and not far from London.  The Doctor is from London.  I am... well, I suppose I'm from there too.  But this year, it is 455, yes?  We are from 2013, over 1500 years in your future.  This is our past -- a past so distant that no one really remembers what happened."

"You cannot travel in time!" exclaimed the priest.

"Gods can." Vortigern grimaced.  "Or, if I get this straight, mortal man becomes much like it.  I think I understand.  You are from someplace that is far ahead of us.  Like the early Kelts before the coming of the Romans would be to us, you are to us."

The Doctor turned back to face him.  "Yes."

"I think I see.  It would explain why so much about you is strange.  Tell me, what must happen?"

"It may change it..."

"I hardly think so, Madam." Vortigern's voice was quiet and serious, but thoughtful.  "If it must happen, it must happen.  Even you said that the details are lost.  So remain, see the details and take them back with you.  If it must be remembered, then remember it as it should be.  Not misted over by legend and supposition by by clarity and truth."

"A wise man once said that the truth sets one free," said the Doctor.  "Sometimes, I think he was wrong."

"Perhaps you are right," said Vortigern.  "Your reluctance tells me what is true... I do not survive this battle, do I?"

She didn't answer and he nodded.  "I thought not.  In truth, I knew I would not.  I am old," he pointed out.  "I have lived long enough.  Tell me who wins on the morrow?"

"Hengest and Horsa will, and you will fall here," answered the Doctor finally.  "But, Horsa will also fall here at Aylesford.  It will be a bloody battle and many will not survive it."

"I see."

"And now you know why I was so reluctant to say," she answered sadly.

Vortigern stepped forward and grasped both her arms gently.  "My Lady, do not feel sadness over this.  As you said, it is written already.  I am an old man.  My only regret is that the young men will not live.  All I ask is that you remember us as we are, not as a musty old legend says we are."

* * * * * * * *

  
 _One week before  
Earth - Antarctica_

Jack called one last time, and again he got Leela.  "Jack Harkness!" This time he could hear the strain in Leela's voice, but then again, she could be exhausted.  "I have not heard from you in weeks, is everything well?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," said Jack, smiling.  "Is the Doctor there?"

There was a pause.  "She is, but..."

"... She's busy.  Listen, Leela... I know she's not on the planet right now.  I think I understand why she left without saying anything.  And... never mind... I'll tell her when she comes back."

* * * * * * * *

  
Vortigern looked up and around.  There was so many dead.  But, from the cries of the men of the Saxons, he knew Horsa had been felled.  He grimaced in pain and looked up, already exhausted.  He caught sight of a fluttering cloth far on the hill.

Whether or not she was the Matron aspect of the Goddess or not, which he honestly didn't think she was.  He was far too pragmatic a man to believe in the old legends.  But... even if she wasn't, to know she watched was like having the Mother Goddess watch over him.

It would not be long now and the Mother would take him back to her arms.

He didn't even see the axe as it fell on him, wielded by Hengest.

* * * * * * * *

  
Ianto watched as Jack left for Antarctica.  He hated always having to be the one to be the bearer of bad news, so when the clipping of a TARDIS being off planet was dropped on his desk from one of Torchwood's off world contacts he had literally, uncharacteristically, waffled with indecision.

He still loved Jack, but also loved the Doctor as almost a sister if not a lover.

Knowing that the Doctor had left Jack behind again Ianto had felt the cold bite of anger deeply.  Jack deserved better than to simply be left behind again, to wonder if his lover was alive or dead.  Ianto knew that she'd come back eventually but, like Autumn and Jack himself, things would be drastically different for Jack.  No time would pass at all for Jack, except for many a few weeks, but the Doctor could literally be gone for years in trying to track down the missing Gallifreyans.

She might even come back as a different person entirely having regenerated due to some accident or violence, knowing her lifestyle.

Jack didn't deserve that.

It was with a heavy heart that Ianto had finally decided to tell him.  He knew that both Jack and the Doctor, and perhaps everyone else, would be rightfully pissed at him for sticking his nose in but if he hadn't had said anything and that exact scenario came about and Jack found out that he knew... then it would be far, far worse.

Now Jack went to find out for himself.

And Ianto hated himself for forcing the issue.

* * * * * * * *

  
The priest accompanied them back to the village where they had first found Vortigern.  This time the ride took only a fortnight.  When they arrived, the Doctor wasted no time in wishing the priest farewell.

"I am sorry about the confusion," he said once more.

"I'm saying She doesn't exist, or that the Christian God does or doesn't," said the Doctor.  "I'm just saying that not everything that appears miraculous is.  Or is not.  Keep an open, but logical, mind about it.  Sometimes things have a more logical explanation even if you're not sure what it is."

"I will remember that," he said.  "Farewell, Doctor."

"Farewell," she waved once more and followed Donna and Jenny back to the TARDIS.

Once they were safely inside it, the Doctor sighed and leaned against the doors.  Then she bounced back and said, "Now where to?"

"Someplace with a bath," said Donna.

"With technology," answered Jenny.  "Roughing it was fun, but I think I need a thorough de-lousing."

The Doctor scratched her shoulder and grimaced.  "Excellent idea."  She moved the TARDIS into the Vortex.  "Let's get that done and then figure out our next step."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks to my beta, Chellus!


	3. Lone Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the TARDIS lands in 1880's Texas the Doctor has to solve the mystery behind a string of serial murders before it wipes out the population and spreads across America.

All that was on his mind was get away.  He had to get away.  There was the cry of a coyote in the distance and the scream of ravens that sounded like they were closer.

He ran around the corner, boots skidding in the loose dirt and spurs catching in the sand, sending bits of plant matter into the air.  Issac was a brave enough soul.  However, there was only so much a man could take before the instinct to run away was absolutely correct.

The dirt street in the middle of town was deserted.  No one was stupid enough to be caught outside anymore in the dark.  Except Issac who had been at the tavern for much too long and too far into his whiskey to care.

Until it was too late and he found himself in a puddle of his own drool and piss, and the howl of the coyote was all the warning he needed.

Too late.

He ran as hard as he could out into the middle of the street.  "Help!" he shouted.  "Someone, dammit all, someone help!"

There was the final, authoritative, scream of an eagle and something heavy landed behind him.

He turned into the alley, thinking that maybe if it was too big than he would have the advantage of being able to be the first to escape it.  At the end of the alley, he turned and skidded to a full halt, turning to face the horror face on, his hand already slipping down to his gun where it rested in its holster.

Issac's hand didn't make it to the gun... it was on the ground in a growing pool of blood as what little there was bled out onto the sandy ground.  He stared in shock at the stump left behind.

* * * * * * * *

  
The boy that hid in the shadows, underneath the crates, trembled but watched the shadows on the wall.  The man held up what was left of his arm and then there was this horrible wet tearing sound and then there was blood thrown everywhere.

The shadow on the wall appeared to be something that could walk on its hind legs, but it had the head of an coyote and wings of an eagle.

He couldn't hold it in anymore.

He screamed in terror and the thing dropped Issac, the town drunk, into a pile on the ground.  The boy was dragged out, kicking and screaming into the dim light of the moon and the bloody mess.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see his death coming, but he could feel the warm hands on his shoulder as something peered at him.  He could feel it looking him over.

Why wasn't he dead yet?

It screamed at him, and shook him some more, but this was meant to frighten, and didn't actually hurt.  Abruptly, it stopped and the boy cracked an eyelid open.

The beast was gone.

* * * * * * * *

  
The day was a bright, and hot one, but then again not many weren't in Southern Texas.  The sheriff watched as the undertaker and his assistants cleaned up the mess and put the pieces of Issac McCormick into the pine coffin.  The mayor walked up, saw the mess, and abruptly began to heave up his breakfast.  "What the hell happened, Jake?" he demanded.

Sheriff Jake Paulson shook his head.  "I dunno, Neil.  Another one like the rest."

"That's the third one this week," pointed out Neil Shannon, the town's mayor.

Jake had the grace to look a bit uncomfortable.  "So far none of the locals, outside our late drunk, have ever been taken.  None of the better folk that come in either.  Just the stragglers, the drifters.  Those caught out at night."

"It's damn disturbing, is what it is," said Neil.  "Listen Jake, you've got to stop this person before he wrecks the whole thing."

"And how do you suppose I go about doing that?" asked Jake.

"I don't know!  You're the sheriff  Go... lawman it out or something."

Jake didn't bother lifting a brow.  There were times when Neil managed to only hint that he was an idiot.  Then there were times when he proved it.  Like now.  "Will do, Mayor.  In the meantime, why don't you go 'mayor' us something up and let me do my job?"

Neil didn't grace him with an answer.  It was one of the few times he knew to just keep his mouth shut before he really proved how much an idiot he really was.

* * * * * * * * *

 **ACT ONE**

* * * * * * * * *

  
The console room was completely deserted.  It had been for days.  There was no need of maintenance or even piloting data to be input when they were merely drifting.  This was one of the times on the TARDIS that qualified as downtime, or those rare moments when there was no place or no when in particular for them to be.

In those times, Donna found herself wandering and reading in the library.  She was a Time Lady and she had no idea what it meant to be one.  Her DNA had been completely and totally changed in order to save her life from the halfway death she had been left in when the Earth had been stolen.  It many respects it had been her fault, and his, that she had stepped into this change.  He had been right -- at least the Valeyard had been right -- that it had been a long time in coming.

The first step to her change, however predestined it seemed to be, was that fateful day she had found herself on the TARDIS on her wedding day to the traitorous Lance.

She could have walked away like she had after that one time, but she had wilfully chased after the Doctor until she had finally tracked him down again, something even he admitted was truly rare and sometimes impossible.  But Donna, the ever so painfully normal Donna Noble, had done what even Sarah Jane Smith did not.

She successfully hunted down the Doctor and -- much to his surprise and then joy -- insinuated herself into the TARDIS and his life until she had touched the hand that would create the Valeyard from the Doctor.

The blow-back from the regeneration energy should have killed her.

But it had... and had not... at the same time.  Even the Valeyard (then still the Doctor) and the original Doctor had been confused and puzzled by the occurrence... by the fact that she lived and walked and even learned to use it just fast enough to be able to save them all.  For one shining moment that she had been part of she had been one of him and had his thoughts and his memories and how he did things in her mind.

And in that moment the Daleks and Davros had their worst nightmare come to life.  Not one Doctor, but three at once and not one of them was simply the Doctor from another point in time or regeneration.

The exact same Doctor -- all his experiences and his knowledge -- in three separate bodies and minds and able to link perfectly together in a way most Time Lords thought impossible but knew if it ever happened would be like having the original Triumvirate again.  And it was.  She had touched it and for one shining moment they had touched that power within all Time Lords... of the first three... they had been the first three.

And then it had started to go wrong and, much as she hated it, she knew that the Doctor had little choice unless he felt like throwing away a regeneration-- and even then it was a chancy proposition that not only could fail but also kill both of them by aborting the regeneration midway through it.

It had not been his death he feared.

He wanted her to live until he thought of another way.

But his life had pulled him away and then he was gone and she was still just existing.  She would have simply existed until something began to pull back to the TARDIS again.

It was during this that Drax had regenerated, and sensing the metacrisis, had pulled her into his own regeneration and finished it successfully and when she had woken up she had her same face but it was as if she had rolled back the clock a good ten years back into her mid twenties.  She had two hearts and remembered everything of herself that had been locked away by the Doctor.

She did not have his memories or experiences.  Just shards of encyclopedic knowledge, things she could have picked up in a book and then they were only bits and pieces and the very, very occasional flash of insight or emotion.

And her days were filled with the massive library that encircled the pool trying to fit the pieces back together again and succeeding but very slowly... so very slowly... by reading and researching.  Days had turned into weeks and then months in between various landings and wanderings, some no more exciting than going to the corner store for milk (in some cases that was their entire purpose, even if that "milk" was a slightly peach shade and had a very, very faint flowery aroma) on the planet Tallana Five.

Finally she sat back down in her chair and looked at the book.  For the first time she noticed the print.  She had simply read the book without really taking notice but now that she really looked at it and took notice she had to laugh and then the laughter died in her throat.  The book was written entirely in Modern Gallifreyan and she had read it as if she had read the language her entire educated life and it wasn't being translated.  She was reading Modern Gallifreyan as well as she could read English.  It was a strange feeling to suddenly realize this.  She didn't quite know how to explain what she felt at this moment.  It felt both like she was coming home and losing something at the same time and that something was something she held dear.

It was as if her humanity was slipping away and everything that was Donna was being replaced by another Donna.

This new Donna looked at it and wondered if it was the same feeling as regenerating.  The previous incarnation was gone and then replaced by the new.

Jenny seemed to take to permanent life on the TARDIS like a kitten to cream but then again she had been technically born to a life of travel and adventure.  She spent her days learning of Gallifreyan life, as did Donna, and honing her already sharp combat skills.  Some days she spent with the Doctor learning what she could of the TARDIS.  Donna couldn't explain it but she already did.  She spent her days reading, going through daily life and in the Cloister Room where the Eye of Harmony used to rest.

* * * * * * * *

  
As for the Doctor, she also spent her days going through what a Gallifreyan normally would during their own typical day.

It was perhaps the one thing the others had not learned yet and it was something the Doctor wasn't sure she could share until the other two were certain of their heritage and how they fit into it.  It wasn't as simple as suddenly saying they had the genetic make-up.  There was literally hundreds of years of cultural catching up to do... the equivalent of the Time Lord Academy.

She was failing them again.  By all rights she should have been teaching them and guiding them through those years of learning and filling in the genetic memories that they both had.

But she could not bring herself to.

She could say why that was but she suspected why it was.  These were two reminders of how much her grandfather had failed two people.  One he left for dead when he should have given her the rites, even if she had not been born the usual way, as due a Gallifreyan.  Instead he wilfully left her body behind without even giving her those rites.  The other he killed everything she had become even if had been to save who she had been and could be with the possibility, however remote, of saving her later.

And now they were in the TARDIS where her grandfather had promised them they belonged and he was long since gone.

He was supposed to be guiding them.  Not her.  It felt as if she was again in his shadow and she didn't even have the benefit of his guiding hand like she had before.

There was also fear of what either of could become if she did.  There was something in both of them that frightened her old blooded soul.  Jenny never saw Gallifrey, nor any other Gallfreyan or Time Lord.  She was given a whole different set of genetic memories from a different people whose entire purpose was war.  Donna was becoming something that even would frighten the most experienced Time Lord.

Donna should never have survived the second completion and regeneration, let alone the first metacrisis.

But she had.

It was like Donna was something else, some...

The Doctor's eyes snapped open, her thoughts running away from what she nearly had uttered, even if in her thoughts.  The peaceful holo of the garden she grew up in on Gallifrey disappeared as she snapped out of her morning meditation.  Everything about the room was the typical meditation and focus "chamber" that a Time Lord needed to psychically cleanse and focus from the constant daily barrage of thoughts and feelings.  It was another part of the highly ritualized culture.

She eased herself out of the folded pose she had pretzeled herself into on the intricate woven gold and red mat.

It was at this moment that her vision faded from the room around her and she fell to the mat in a near faint.  As her vision faded out, she was aware of the holo vanishing completely and the tolling of the Cloister bell, the room flashing in an alert.

The blackness at the edges of her vision swamped her.

When she opened her eyes she was standing in a street, but the perspective was all wrong.  She was too close to the ground, and a bit hidden behind boxes.  She felt fear and heard the screams of the man as she watched the hybrid form rip a man apart.  Only she didn't see the life form, just the shadow as blood splattered everywhere.  And then she could see nothing but she felt as if she was been shaken as something, perhaps a coyote, screamed at her.

And then it silenced and she gradually became aware of someone gently shaking her shoulder, tapping her hand and calling her name at once.

She blinked herself slowly awake and winced at the bright white lights of the TARDIS infirmary.  "What in the name of Rassilon happened, Doctor?" asked Donna.  "One minute I was reading and then both Jenny and I felt the distress from the TARDIS and followed it to its source to find you collapsed."

"Doctor, are you all right?" asked Jenny.

The Doctor ran a hand over her face before covering her face with her hands in the effort of at least attenuating the sudden overload of information.  Donna backed up a bit, and the Doctor was aware of Jenny being pulled gently away.  Not far, but enough that she could get her bearings again.  Finally she lowed them back to resting on her stomach as she stared up at them.  "Did either of you sense anything other than the TARDIS's distress at my collapse?"

"I... I don't know how to explain it but both Jenny and I did," answered Donna, as she and Jenny looked over the Doctor at each other.  "What was it?"

For a long moment, the Doctor didn't answer.  "It was a stone dropping into the Weave, making causal ripples.  I'm not sure what caused it or why.  However, I do have a when and where to find out."

She began to sit up, and both Jenny and Donna helped her up.  Jenny grinned.  "So what are we waiting for?"

"For the Doctor to recover from this," answered Donna as she ran a hand up and down the Doctor's arm in comfort.  "Take it slow."

"I'm fine, Donna.  I was just surprised by it.  The timing wasn't great.  I was just finishing..." The Doctor stopped with a sigh.  "Never mind, one day I'll tell you and you'll look back on this day and understand what happened."

"How about telling us now?" Donna asked, her eyes thinning.

The Doctor shook her head.  "All in good time, Donna, all in good time."  She stood up, and waiting for the dizziness to pass.  "Come on, these things always make me feel as if I just got off one of those playground spinny things you find in parks."

Donna and Jenny followed the Doctor, still mostly concerned about the dizzy spells, but were relieved that they seemed to have passed.  Donna knew that since she and Jenny were still feeling a bit queasy and since it was related to the Doctor's dizziness meant the Doctor wasn't over these "causal ripples" or whatever she wanted to call them.

Jenny helped the Doctor pilot the TARDIS, and within minutes the sound of the old time ship re-materializing into existence filled the room.  For a long moment, the Doctor seemed to stare at the controls and then she smiled suddenly.  "Not bad.  Where and when I intended to be on the very first attempt.  I'm getting better at this."

"Or we're exactly where the TARDIS wants us to be-- which can only mean one thing.  Trouble." This from Donna who delivered it with an even, calm tone that a person only used when they tried to not alarm someone.

"Or... on a different note..." began Jenny thoughtfully.  "The TARDIS and the Doctor are beginning to be far more in tune with each other and perhaps are sensing the same things at the same time..."  She looked at the Doctor.  "Which means you now know, on the same wavelength as the TARDIS, where you need and ought to be and therefore the TARDIS no longer has to 'hijack' your plans anymore."

There was an almost disturbingly silent pause before the Doctor shook her head.  "It happens occasionally, to both me and my grandfather."  She clapped her hands together, moved to the door and pulled the doors open.  "Now let's see where we are."

The Doctor stared outside in dismay while Donna and Jenny watched in bemusement.  Finally she stepped outside and they followed.  Jenny looked around.  "Where are we?" she asked as she noted the trees and rolling plains, only punctuated by the occasional and the river in the distance.

"Likely late 1800's in America on Earth," answered Donna.  "By the look of it.  Looks like something straight out of an Eastwood or John Wayne movie."

"You're precisely right," answered the Doctor darkly.  "Not again.  I hate, hate, hate this era and in particular this particular sub-culture.  Nothing against it, some people liked it, I just did not."

"Are you all right with this?" asked Jenny, her eyes dancing.  "What's so bad about it?"

"She doesn't like guns, and the whole Western thing was that everyone carried a gun at their hip, at least according to popular culture," said Donna in a sotto voice.

"Not just pop culture.  Historical fact, especially if I think we are where we are.  It's something to do with the right to bear arms or some such.  That and the 'long arm of the law' wasn't that long or particularly law abiding itself," answered the Doctor.  "The whole thing gnaws at me and it just isn't the 'gun thing'."

"What I can't understand is why, for the second time in a row, the TARDIS took us somewhere historical instead of an alien or futuristic one, as writers like to put it.  It's like this series of adventures with you is about learning about Earth's past and far more educational to a human reader than perhaps what as to compared my adventures with your grandfather," said Donna, a note of mischief in her eyes.

"Well, that seems mostly out of my control.  If, say, my life was a work of fiction I can tell you that my first adventures with humans, and my grandfather, was a lot like how these are working out to be.  Sometimes I swore it was like we were on a publicly funded network meant to educate students on history.  The Romans, Aztecs... even the Stone Age and not an alien in sight unless you counted my grandfather and I," answered the Doctor.  "But I wouldn't count on it here.  My little vision proves it.  Some sort of hybrid creature... and would you look at that.  We landed a fair bit out of that town..."

They had indeed.  It wasn't that far, but far enough that it would take at least a half hour to walk to it.  Thankfully, there was a road not two steps away from where the TARDIS had landed.  "I would suggest we go back to the TARDIS and change so that we don't appear totally out of place," said Donna.

"You just want to wear the period clothing of this era," grinned Jenny.  "You love this.  I saw that collection of historical romances and the Louis Lamour books in your room.  When you aren't reading what's in the library, you're reading those."

Donna blushed a deep crimson and the Doctor raised a brow.  "I wouldn't suggest the ladies wear.  You'd not find it as romantic as those novels suggest.  In fact, I'd suggest wearing your modern underwear underneath what would be men's wear for this period.  It's not completely out of place.  Some of the more 'proper' people of this era will look down their noses, but there are a fair enough amount of tomboys in this era.  And they aren't as rare as you'd think.  It's just the nature of the area.  You're tough or you don't survive."

When they came back out, they were all wearing a reasonable approximation of the period's clothing, favouring the men's side of things even if Donna still wore a feminine blouse complete with the frilly cuffs and high neck with a cameo pin worn a bit lower than what would be normal so that the neck wasn't restrictive.  The Doctor wore a plain blouse, while still a women's blouse, that was the precursor to the modern women's buttoned and collared shirt.  Jenny went straight for the men's clothes.  They all wore jeans, but a different wash to each of them again.  The Doctor favoured a plain, as close to historical, tan trouser that fit close but not skin tight.  Donna wore a dark blue that was just shy of fitting like a second skin and Jenny wore a flat grey trouser that fit like Donna's jeans on her.  Jenny chose to not wear a vest, while both the Doctor and Donna did.  Donna wore a brocade one, that the Doctor couldn't help but point out was actually a piece of Eight's favoured clothing.  She wore a plain grey linen vest.  From that point, they were near identical, with matching duster jackets, Australian style hats versus the typical Stetson... except Jenny who went immediately for the Stetson.

The Doctor chose not to carry a gun, but they had seen her sonic screwdriver and psychic paper put into the inside pocket of the vest and a combat knife strapped along her belt at the small of her back and in easy reach.  Donna chose to keep a simple hunting rifle strapped in a carrying case on her back over the duster and a simple long knife strapped to her left thigh.  They had to rein in Jenny, who wanted to carry almost too many weapons.

In the end she agreed to carry only enough that she felt comfortable without looking ridiculous, which, like Donna, included a rifle carried the same way as Donna's, two revolvers - one strapped to each thigh, a simple long knife carried the same way as the Doctor's and another, smaller, blade just inside her boot.

At least those were the ones they saw her put on.  In reality, the minute the Doctor's back was turned, Jenny put two small throwing knives on the inside of each arm, a sharpened hair stick held her hair, held securely by the clips so her hair wouldn't slip.  On her belt and to the side was another, more utility than anything, multi-tool that was likely purchased or found in a surplus store and the ammunition for her guns.

Just under the knife and hidden further down and just underneath the small of her back and in the back of her jeans was a small laser pistol.  Jenny had taken to carrying wherever she went and wasn't sure where it came from.  It had been found on board the TARDIS in a room that was clearly a man's room, but not anyone she knew.  The style was strange, and it wasn't until later when she met Jack Harkness that she realized the gun was his.

It was a small sized gun, almost pint sized, but when she had fired it in the testing range it had more than enough of a wallop to be effective.

The Doctor didn't like guns, so Jenny didn't carry a visible gun.  But, her 'breeding' meant she was uncomfortable without the reassurance one meant.

Finally they left the TARDIS and walked towards the town.  Jenny didn't regret the shade the hats brought them, or begrudge the insistence that the Doctor had about carrying light survival packs to appear to be simple drifters... without horses.  "That will be noticeable.  We are strangers to a town in the middle of nowhere and we're on foot.  In case you haven't noticed, the boots from this period and place are not exactly conducive to walking."

"Why?" asked Jenny.

"Because they rode horses everywhere," answered Donna, inwardly grinning.

Although their boots looked historical, they had cheated and added support for walking and then the addition of gel inserts for further comfort.  "Our boots are not like others.  The support is okay, but the cushioning isn't.  We've cheated and used modern boots that look historical and further cushioned them because we know how much we'll be walking until we get to town and I'd rather not end up with blisters," added the Doctor.  "Come on, if we don't get there soon it will be dark out."

It was almost sunset when they arrived.  The Doctor sighed in relief.  "Let's try here for someplace to stay," suggested Donna, but was surprised when the innkeeper slammed the door closed, locked it and pulled down the shade when she approached.  "So much for that."

They turned to the tavern and saw that it was also closing the storm doors as they turned to it.  They kept walking, noting the town practically rolling up the sidewalk as they did so.  The only place not suddenly closed was the sheriff’s office.  There was a man, likely the sheriff, outside sweeping off the step and he looked up and leaned on his broom as he watched them approach.  "Evenin'," he said as he tipped his hat slightly.

"Good evening," answered the Doctor.  "Perhaps you'd know a place to stay for the night.  It seems everywhere is closed."

"That a Canuck accent I hear?" he asked, his eyebrows raising.  "Haven't had a Canadian this way in a dog's age.  What are you doing this far South, miss?"

"Travelling," she answered blandly.  "Sheriff, that place to stay?"

"Oh, you can stay here.  I can't believe the people of this town would turn you away.  Downright callous and rude, if you ask me, but you didn't," he said.  "Come on, I'll put on a fresh pot of coffee and we can talk, if you want."

They entered the Sheriff’s office, which was also the town's jail.  It was empty.  "Come on, if I wouldn't make my enemy's dog sleep in a cell, I certainly won't a woman do it.  My home is just above and up the stairs.  I have enough beds to suit.  Meant to be a depot with more men but it's just me now."

They followed him upstairs into the more comfortable space above, after watching close and lock the shutters of the main floor with bemused expressions.  He also locked and shuttered the windows as well as the door to the walk-out balcony before lighting a lantern with a match, then the wood stove as he set the coffee pot on top.  "I don't have much, but what I have you're welcome to," he said finally as he turned to face them.  "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?  Not a cigarette like most drifter's do, but I like a good proper pipe now and again."

The Doctor waved a hand dismissively.  "Thank you for the hospitality, Sheriff  We appreciate it."

He lit the pipe, and with an afterthought, offered it to Donna, who sat closest.  She waved her hand in polite refusal.  "No, thank you," she said, and watched him offer it to each one of them and as they refused.

"Mighty nice of you.  You don't smoke but don't mind that I do," he said with a smile.  "Must travel a lot to have that kind of... how do they say it... easy going manner, I suppose.  I still can't believe the people of this town leaving you three out there at night just like that."

"We could have camped, if worse came to worst," said Jenny.

The Sheriff abruptly stopped smoking his pipe.  "Absolutely not!" he finally said, vehemently, his voice raised to almost a shout, then he calmed as he looked nervously around.  "What I mean to say is... well... three women out in the cold.  No, no, absolutely not."

"That is a rather strong response to the suggestion," noted the Doctor.  "What is outside, Sheriff.. what's out there that we can't stay outside."

"It's nothing," he waved it off.

He froze as the eerie sound of a coyote echoed in the distance.  The Doctor looked at him, and his face grew pale.

* * * * * * * * *

 **ACT TWO**

* * * * * * * * *

  
While the Doctor couldn't help but notice that this particular misadventure had its fair share of pauses, the Sheriff found himself in the midst of another one.  She could see the cold sweat forming on his brow as he was caught out.  "Sheriff, we mean no harm and possibly quite a bit of good.  What was that?" asked Donna.

"Oh hell.  I don't know, that's the problem.  But I can tell you the mayor has been on my ass to find out and do something about it before it starts killing people in their homes."  He took a long drag of his pipe and calmed his nerves.  "I'm quite sure it's some lunatic... some sort of touched type that murders anyone not indoors.  Although, as you can see, everyone has taken to the extra step of shuttering the lower floors completely."

"And what do you think is going on?" asked the Doctor.

With a sigh, the sheriff realized that these three women believed him and believed that it was something else out there.  Made sense considering how armed one appeared to be and he knew he saw the bulge of knives on the other two hidden underneath their duster jackets.  "In the past few weeks, anyone outside after dark has been brutally and messily, I might add, killed by being torn to pieces like it was done by some wild animal.  The only warning is that coyote, and then the scream of an eagle, I think.  So far, it's only targeted the drifters that come into town.  Anyone inside and behind closed doors has been safe.  The mayor might think it's some lunatic, but that doesn't explain the coyote or the eagle, or even the screaming ravens at the same time."

"Well, he could be right." The Doctor leaned back in her chair.  "But you might be as well.  The whole point is that we don't know what's out there and you're right in that it sounds dangerous.  Were any of these drifters armed?"

"Some were, and it didn't make any difference.  You'd find their gun, still in their hand, attached to an arm a good ten feet away from the torso, and no indication that they'd got a shot off.  What ever it is, it's mighty fast too and knows what a gun is," he answered.  "When the people in town saw and heard about that... well... I'd imagine you see the outcome.  Most are certain that it's only a matter of time before we're all dead."

"And absolutely no one has survived or escaped an attack?" asked Jenny, her brow creasing.

"Not a single soul, miss."

The four of them sat for another bit of time, just thinking.  The Doctor was puzzled by this.  Something told her that there was just something missing from this entire equation.  Some vital clue.  "It's definitely a creature of some sort.  And someone, while they didn't see it, they saw its shadow and survived."

The other three turned to look at her and the Sheriff’s let the pipe drop against his chin as he let his mouth drop in shock.  "Look, miss... I know I answered a similar question earlier to the negative."

"Sheriff, I can't explain how I know.  But someone survived an attack.  They're just not telling anyone about their close call.  Someone saw another murdered in the last few nights."  The Doctor as adamant.

"Doctor... I know you've an instinct... but seriously?" asked Donna.

"It had something to do with that... ah... right before we left the ship."

Both Jenny and Donna suddenly understood.  "The causal ripple.  You saw someone survive."

"But you just arrived here... how can you say that?!" asked the Sheriff in shock.

The Doctor shook her head.  "It's complicated."

The Sheriff appeared mollified.  "Okay, say that you're right, and I don't think you are, but for the sake of argument, say that you are.  How would we find such a person?"

"I'd say we would be looking for the most haunted looking person in town, as well as one trying to keep a low profile.  I also think, given that they were also outdoors, in an alley, that they are likely without a home but not quite a drifter.  Know anyone like that, Sheriff?" asked the Doctor.

For a long moment, the Sheriff thought about it and then said, "Yeah, I do.  There's some kids in town, orphans.  The matron tries her best but some manage to sneak out at night.  She said one that was particularly infamous for it hasn't done so in a while.  We can start there.  Damn... a kid saw it happen."  He saw the look on the Doctor's face, one that signalled victory and pointed a finger at her.  "Doesn't mean I believe your hare brained notion that you 'saw' this kid 'see' anything."

"But you have admitted to the possibility," said the Doctor.  "And that's the main thing.  Now, it's been a long day... and walk... for the three of us and a long day for you.  I suggest we begin at sun up."

* * * * * * * * *

  
A short time before sunrise, the Doctor woke the Sheriff.  He stretched, yawned and then rolled over to a sitting position.  After rubbing his eyes from sleep, he accepted the cup of coffee offered by the Doctor.  "Yer up mighty early, Doctor."

"I don't sleep much," she admitted softly.

"Well, now that I'm up, I may as well do the hospitable thing and make a proper breakfast.  Judging by your accents, yer from up North while your friends sound as if they come from England," said the Sheriff.  "Don't get that many guests around these parts that come from such far off places.  It's refreshing, really."

The Doctor smiled as she sipped her coffee.  "I'm glad you approve," she admitted.

"Not many would, to be honest.  Watch yourself out there."

The Sheriff stoked the fire until it was hot enough to boil water again and then he set a pan upon it.  Soon the tantalizing smell of bacon, eggs and coffee filled the air.  He sat down after giving the Doctor a plate and then gave himself a plate as well.  For awhile they simply ate in companionable silence.  Finally, after giving the Doctor an appraising look he finally said, "If I was smart, I'd deputize the lot of you.  You seem to have the only chance of catching this thing... or wing-nut... so far you've had the best ideas and you seem the most capable."

The Doctor thought for a long moment, but didn't seem that impressed with the idea.  "I'm not altogether sure..."

"I, for one, think it's a wonderful idea," said Jenny as she walked down the stairs to make herself a plate of food, passing another to Donna as she came down behind her.  "I think we should.  I think I will.  What about you, Donna?"

The Sheriff smiled, went to his desk and pulled out the star shaped badge and handed it to Jenny, and seeing Donna's outstretched hand, also handed her one.  The Doctor closed her eyes and sighed heavily.  "May as well hand me one too, Sheriff  You win.  We'll let you deputize us.  It appears I'm outvoted."

She stood up, accepted the third star and began to clip it to her shirt.  Just as she was about to finish there was an enormous banging on the door.  The Sheriff opened the door and the mayor ran through it.  "Jake, I've heard a rumour that you put up three drifters... what... oh..." he turned and noticed the three women, all with stars on their shirts.  "I see it's true."

"You're strangers here and you'll soon find your out of your element," huffed the Mayor.

"What, exactly, is our 'element'?" asked Donna.

For a long, tense, moment the Mayor and Donna appeared to simply stare at each other until the Mayor finally looked away.  Clearing his throat, the Sheriff jumped in.

"Neil, these are more than drifters... they've agreed to help us."  The Sheriff walked over and put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder.  "I decided to deputize them.  This is Jenny, Donna and Susan... although Susan prefers to be called the Doctor or simply Doctor."

Mayor Neil Shannon looked from one woman to the other.  Finally his eyes settled on the Doctor.  "You're a multi-talented woman to be both Doctor and Deputy, Doctor."

"You don't know the half of it," said the Doctor warily.

"Well, I, for one, am looking forward to learning more and I'm sure looking forward to having the back-up, Doctor, so I'm glad to have you on board," said the Sheriff

The Mayor turned on his heel with a snort and left quickly.  "Will this cause trouble?" asked Jenny.

"Naw, he's just ruffled because I made a decision that makes him look like a waffling idiot.  Don't worry about it.  If people give you trouble, send'm to me and I'll straighten them out right and proper."

* * * * * * * * *

 **ACT THREE**

* * * * * * * * *

  
The Doctor stepped out into the dusty street, careful to stay out of the way of the horses and various horse drawn carriages as she crossed the road over to the general store.  While the coffee had been properly strong, bracing and hot it just wasn't tea and if she were to ward off Donna's tendency to twig mid-afternoon.  And the TARDIS had certainly spoiled them in that regard.

Walking into the door, her eyes quickly adjusted to the darker interior as she looked around for what she sought.  She smiled at the storekeeper, and noted his answering frown as he leaned forward on his counter.  "Is there something in particular you're looking for?" he asked coolly.

"Tea," she answered.  "Orange pekoe, or earl grey, even English Breakfast."

He raised his eyebrows slightly at both her accent... at least to his ears... and the answer he'd received.  "You're not the typical drifter, I'll say that for you.  I certainly didn't expect someone of taste and culture to come here."  The tone was significantly warmer, not friendly quite yet, but definitely out of the sub zero tone it had been before.  "I keep that behind the counter, miss...?"

She didn't miss the hanging question, left open for her to answer.  "It's Doctor, actually."

Again his eyebrows rose.  "A doctor, a deputy, a drifter... and a dame.  Quadruple threat..."  He laughed at his own joke, but then, seeing as she wasn't laughing, stopped and grew serious again.  "I see the rumours were true... for once.  Strange mix, but I guess Sheriff Paulson is getting a mite desperate.  At least he picked someone with some brains.  So, Doctor... what did you say your name was?"

"Just the Doctor will do." At this she winked.  "It's not that I don't have a name, but that I prefer being referred to as the Doctor."

"So... Doctor... what do you make of our little town?  That will be ten cents."

"It's a nice place... however, the night life takes some getting used to."  She paid for the tea.  "Just how long as this been going on?"

"You plan on doin' something about it?"

"Perhaps."

"Then let me tell you something, and only because I like you.  I have a good feeling about you even if the rest of town don't agree with it.  Stay indoors at night.  You'll last longer and quite frankly we could use a quadruple threat to shake things up."  He leaned back after giving her the change.  "No amount of silver dollars are worth being ripped apart."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks."  She tipped her hat and then walked back outside, again avoiding the three horses and two carriages that went by in either direction as she crossed the road.

The Sheriff was sitting on the deck outside of the front of his office.  "Did you get what you were looking for, Doctor?"

"And then some," she answered as she went into the office.

Donna and Jenny turned to her.  Donna was organizing the files and paperwork while Jenny appeared to be monumentally bored and was eyeing the guns in the locked cabinet.  "This man, and the Sheriff before him, had no idea how to keep files," griped Donna.

"Anything interesting?" asked the Doctor.

"Not yet, but I have pulled what reports and notes I've found that could be related and put them on the table," answered Donna.  "I'll let you know if I find anything substantial."

The Doctor nodded, and threw Donna the tin of tea.  "Here, I know you get without tea so I bought some.  It smelled like English Breakfast, although it could be mixed with Orange Pekoe.  Either way, it smelled decent."  She made a 'come on' gesture to Jenny.  "Let's go talk to some of the locals and see if we can get more information about what's been going on."

Jenny jumped up eagerly and followed the Doctor out with a last minute wave to Donna.  "I'll just stay here and keep looking over the files, then," said Donna with a shake of her head.  "Don't mind me or anything!"

"That's mighty nice of ya, Donna!" came the Sheriff’s response.

Donna let her head hang until she connected with the filing cabinet.

* * * * * * * * *

  
Jenny followed along, almost bouncing with glee at the chance to be out of the office and in the middle of it all.  The Doctor could almost feel herself rolling her eyes at the younger Gallifreyan's excitement which she could sense off of her in waves.  "Jenny, relax," said the Doctor.  "You're making them nervous."

"I'm sorry, but I loved watching those old westerns and the remakes.  This is ten times better."

With a laugh, the Doctor realized why Jenny had all but jumped at the chance to be a deputy.  "Your big chance to be the 'new sheriff in town', is it?"

"Yup!"

The Doctor grew serious.  "Not to rain on your parade, but we're not here for that.  For some reason, the TARDIS decided it.  I didn't pilot us here -- keep your wits about you."  She noticed that Jenny suddenly seemed to droop.  "I don't mean to not enjoy it, but temper it with vigilance."

Jenny nodded, a bit brighter again, but this time at manageable levels instead of being like staring into the sun's corona.  "Can we go in there?" Jenny pointed at the saloon.  "Maybe we can get some information."

"You're kidding, right?" asked the Doctor, noting Jenny's pleading eyes.

"It's a saloon... everything happens in a saloon..." Jenny answered.

"... This isn't the movies, Jenny."

"I know, I know, but come on... everyone either goes to the general store, which you've already been to, or to the saloon.  Which place do you see the most traffic going in and out of?"

The Doctor had to admit that Jenny had a point.  The saloon was packed and full of noise that they could hear from the street.  "All right, but be careful."  The Doctor pushed the swinging doors open and followed Jenny in.

All at once, the music stopped as the man playing the piano in the corner stopped playing it and then everyone turned to stare at them.  Jenny looked sideways at the Doctor, not turning her head or body, just with her eyes.  The Doctor, out of the corner of her eye, saw that but was more concerned with the sudden attention they had gained just by walking into the saloon's common room.  With a sigh, she pushed her way to the bar with Jenny not far behind her.

It was this that seemed to make things, even if it was strained, return to halfway normal as the piano player began to play again and the conversation noise restarted, even if it was somewhat subdued.  The Doctor motioned to the barkeeper to come over, but noticed that he only looked at her warily and moved away.  She was about to try again when a rather burly, and unwashed, man in a rough leather duster coat moved over beside her.  She wrinkled her nose and looked up at him.  "Well, isn't this special.  You're one of them drifters everyone is talking about."

The way he said it made sound as if the word drifter equated to something that he would slough off the bottom of his boot.  "Well, now I'm one of the deputies.  And I'm on a case and I'm looking for information."

"You won't find it here," came another voice behind her.  "The Sheriff has all he needs to know.  We don't need some half-pint drifter getting ideas into her head that she belongs when she ought to just move on."

The Doctor looked around in the direction that came from.  "Do you really feel that way?" she asked.

"Look, lady, we don't know where you came from and frankly, we don't care.  Go back to it."

"Perhaps we can get rid of that thing that that's been terrorizing the town... the one that makes you board everything up at night!" exclaimed Jenny.  "Or would rather it continue?"

The barkeeper put down a glass hard enough that it sounded like a gunshot, and everyone silenced at the sound.  "Little lady, you may think you can help us but the truth is no one can.  Leave, before you end up like everyone else."

"Have it your way, then," said the Doctor as she pushed herself off of where she had leaned backwards against the bar.  "Come along, Jenny."

"Lady... where are you from?  'Come along'?" asked one tittering woman in the back.

"That's 'Doctor', if you don't mind," corrected the Doctor, noting with no little amount of satisfaction at the sudden surprise as more than a few heads whipped around at the correction.

"Yer a Doctor?" asked one man near the entrance, the disbelief plain in his voice.

"Yes, I am," she answered.

Again, there was a rather uncomfortable silence.  "Fine, then, have it your way.  If anyone has any information about the killer or why it's so important you all board yourself up at night, then you know where to find us."

The Doctor turned Jenny around and led her out of the saloon.  "That was a mistake," said Jenny.  "I didn't think they'd be so against us."

"It wasn't a mistake.  Sometimes the hardest part of needing help is not just asking for it, but knowing that you need it in the first place.  Their issue is just that.  Eternals forbid they tell an outsider that they're in over their heads," answered the Doctor.

* * * * * * * *

  
The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully, even after the Doctor and Jenny came back to the Sheriff’s office.  The Doctor and the Sheriff sat on the front porch and simply talked.  Jake had to admit that the exotic nature of the Doctor was attractive, her accent endearing but still understandable unlike other British speakers he'd run across.  Then again, they likely thought the same of his accent.

He knew she was only passing through and he could also sense a sort of deep grief that rolled off her in waves.  It was a sort of lonesome that only came from widows and those whose love was spurned.  She'd been deeply hurt, that much was clear. He cut a bit of apple and handed a piece to her.

"I can see what you mean about the town not liking outsiders."

"Aw, don't let them get to you.  They're good folk that have been drawn a raw deal.  It's one of the reasons I don't up and leave the place," he answered.

"Look, Sheriff.."

"It's Jake."

"Jake..." she said his name like she was memorizing it.  "I appreciate the hospitality."

"It's nothing," he answered.  "Look, I realize you tend to call yourself the Doctor more than you do Susan, but seeing as we're on first name basis and all, could I drop your title as well?"

"If that's the case, then it'd be more accurate to call me by my actual given name, which most believe to be somewhat difficult to pronounce."

"Hah, I knew you weren't actually... er, that is to say..." he suddenly stumbled.  "Well, you ain't exactly, er..."

"White?" she asked.

"Well, not it so many words..."

"You'd be right.  I'm not from England, by ancestry, unlike my friends.  Although Jenny is a distant relative... but that's a bit complicated."

"How so?" he asked.

"Technically she's my aunt," answered the Doctor with a bit of a laugh.  "My grandfather had her last, long after my father and his other siblings by my grandmother.  Patience died a long time before Jenny was ever in the picture."

"That's not exactly a very exotic name... I'm guessing you're at least half British."  Jake leaned back.  "America is two ways in some places.  Welcoming and open in some places, given how we've come about.  Other places outright backward and... not so welcome.  Unfortunately you found one of the latter, but only because of... this..." He gestured as the sun began to set, and he held out his hand to help her up.  "Well, I suppose it's time to go inside, Susan."

She took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet, and they stood there, staring at each other for the longest time.  "I think you're asking something of me that I'm not ready to give.  After this... I will have to move on."

"You sure?" he asked, lifting a brow.  "I'm sure I could find a place for you, even for Donna and Jenny in this town.  I can tell you, with the rail coming through, that this place will be a whole lot more metropolitan, in both the good and bad, in a few years and your brand of back up would be welcome."

"I never did ask what the name of the town was," she admitted.

"It's called Dallas."

* * * * * * * *

  
Donna saw the Doctor walk in before the Sheriff did.  She looked a bit disturbed, to say the least.  She looked over at Donna and asked, "Did you know we're in Dallas?"

Donna looked down at the paperwork and then back up to the Doctor.  "Well, it was kind of hard not to notice on all the paperwork."

"Donna, when are we?"

"When are you?" asked Jake incredulously.  "I've heard tell of some travellers being confused, but that takes the cake, Susan.  It's July.  Surely you knew that."

"Well, not precisely when... but refresh my memory.  We have been wandering a bit... what year is it?" asked the Doctor.

"Eighteen sixty," he answered.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" asked Jenny as she watched the Doctor pale visibly.

"Think, Donna... the time lines..." whispered the Doctor to Donna so that the others wouldn't hear.  "And then look again at the papers."

Donna stared at her for a long moment then closed her eyes, opened them and looked down.  Instead of seeing the papers for the past, it was as if a few more reports were on the table, as ghostly images in golden and green dust, but to her eyes, and likely the Doctor's, it was as if they were as clear as the other papers on the desk.  "Oh... my... God..." said Donna as she let the time lines fade back to the background and then looked at the Doctor.  The fire that burnt down all of downtown Dallas.  It happens...

... In less than two weeks, yes, came the Doctor's answer.  I think we now know what really caused it.

Is there nothing we can do?  Donna seemed disturbed by what they might have to do.

I think... I think the fire is what saves it in the end.  If not for the fire the loss would be much, much worse.  We have to find what is causing the killings soon, and stop it, or this Fixed Point breaks.  The Doctor took a breath and smiled wanly at the Sheriff as he and Jenny closed up shop, locking everything on the first floor closed securely from the outside.  It is Fixed.

But those people...

... More could die if we don't see this through.  I don't like it any more than you do.  Remember what happened in Pompeii when my grandfather took you there.  Remember those creatures of fire and what they were doing to the people of Pompeii?  This could very well be the same.

Their conversation was broken when they heard a scream from outside.  The Doctor ran to the door and the Sheriff was there to stop her.  "No!  Don't!  If you go out there it will get you!"

"Dammit, Jake, this could be our only chance to break this case wide open!" cried the Doctor as she fought her way past.

Donna jumped up and ran to the door, her hand on the handle and the Sheriff turned his attention to her as she grabbed firm hold of him and fell down, pulling him down with her as she did so.  "Go!" she shouted.

Jenny pulled open the door and then the Doctor followed, her sonic screwdriver in hand.  They ran down the street and Jenny found, even though she had a small head start, that the Doctor managed to outrun her and then it was Jenny who just barely managed to keep up.  They could hear the Sheriff, swearing as he gave chase after them and Donna as she ran to keep up with them all.

"Dammit, you fool woman!  Come back inside!  That thing eats people!" shouted the Sheriff

"Doctor!  Wait!" came Donna's voice.

In return was only, "It's this way!"

The Doctor turned the corner into the alley and came to a sudden and abrupt halt.  She looked up at the back of the creature as the hybrid creature, which she could now see as it was instead of a shadow, lifted up the hapless man.  Before she could raise an arm to distract it away, the creature reached up another clawed arm and tore into the man, ripping him in two as if using his legs as the two pieces of a turkey's wishbone.  Blood, gore and other bits sprayed and splattered the area and the creature.

It suddenly realized it wasn't alone and turned on the Doctor and she raised the sonic,  bracing herself in a basic aikido pose, grimly frowning and hardening her eyes in rage at the senseless slaughter.  The hybrid creature, which appeared to be some sort of chimera, only formed from native American elements instead of Greek mythological ones, roiled back.  It was as if it was surprised, shocked, or even a bit alarmed at the sudden appearance of something that didn't consider itself prey and therefore, given the lack of fear, was likely something of an equal in the food chain.

Given that it was used to be at the top, it wasn't sure how to react, whether to fight this new threat and show that it was still at the top, or to run away because if this new threat felt it was equal then perhaps it had power that the chimera wasn't aware of.

The Doctor stepped forward, and the chimera hopped back, screeching in dismay.  This two legged thing didn't smell like the others and it dared to approach.  It made the first move.

Two seconds later, Jenny turned the corner and stopped dead, her eyes widening in surprise, and then curiosity.  She brought up her rifle.  Curious or not, this thing had killed many, many others and she wasn't about to be next.

The chimera knew suddenly it was outnumbered, but they were still small if fearless.  They smelled so different.  Not like food... it had suddenly decided that something this bold was not food... but definitely something that was challenging its territory.

The arrival of Donna, the third to smell different from what the chimera had been hunting and a fourth which did, but had their smell on him, was the breaking point that the chimera decided it had enough.  It was outnumbered.  One challenge it could have handled, but not two and then three right after.  It flew, clumsily, its wings only strong enough to lend it jumping and gliding power, but more than enough to get far out of reach.

Jenny lifted her rifle to take aim but was surprised when the Doctor put a hand on it to lower it.  "Not yet, Jenny.  We'll have to track it.  Maybe, just maybe, we can relocate it using the TARDIS."

The Sheriff took off his hat and holstered his gun, walking forward.  "What in hell was that thing?"

"Your killer," answered Donna, looking at the obvious evidence.

"You're either a whole lot braver than anyone in this town, or a whole lot dumber, but either way you're the luckiest I've ever seen."  He shook his head as he crouched down.  "Damn, if I hadn't tried to stop you from getting out here you might have been here in time to save him."

"You did what you thought was best with the information you had.  And in answer, it's not luck, it's experience," said the Doctor.

"I'd hate to know what that 'experience' means," was his very quick rebuttal.

"She's the Doctor.  She goes where she's needed and solves the problems no one else can, only to move on once done," answered Jenny.

The Sheriff stood up, and faced the Doctor, looking her in the eye as he then walked past her, shaking his head.  "Yeah, I kind of thought you were one of those kind of drifters."

* * * * * * * * *

 **ACT FOUR**

* * * * * * * * *

  
By mid morning the next day, everyone in Dallas knew about the 'first' survivors that had not only been out during the night, but had chased down, saw and then chased off the murderer, even if they had been minutes too late.  Mayor Shannon came by around noon and walked into the office, seeing the Doctor and the Sheriff poring over a map of the area.  "I've called an emergency town meeting for this afternoon."

"Whatever for?" asked the Sheriff

"Well, seeing as we now have people who have seen him, and survived him... hell could stand up to 'im," said Shannon.  "It's time we went after the bastard and made sure he doesn't stop what Dallas should be."

The Doctor sighed and looked over at Donna and Jenny meaningfully.  Jenny had already been filled in about the Fixed Point and was as grim about the possible outcome.  They had argued, late into the night and into the early morning hours, over when this Fixed Point was and if, in fact, they were to have anything to do with it.

"You have a problem with that, Doctor?" asked the Mayor.

"Not really, no, however, I think it would be far wiser to send a small team of people instead of mobilizing the entire town, if that's what you're looking to do, Mr. Shannon," she answered.

The Mayor frowned and turned to the Sheriff  "This is what happens when you put a woman in a place where a woman ought not to be.  Be at the meeting, preferably without your so called deputies, Sheriff"

"You do realize that these so called deputies are the ones who saw the culprit and managed to chase him off, something no man has been able to do here so far, right?" asked Donna.

The Mayor whirled around. "What?!  How dare you!"

"She has a point," said the Sheriff  "Before they came here all we could do was hunker down and pray for morning.  Now they're here not one week and they've managed to do something none of us could.  I'd say that deserves some respect."

"Women, drifters and this one not even white... are you mad, Jake?" said the Mayor, pointing at the Doctor.

"For Christ's sake, Neil, pull your head out of your ass long enough to listen to yourself!  White, black or otherwise... or a woman... she's done something none of us could.  If not for her we'd still be pissing ourselves in fear."

The Mayor threw his hands into the air.  "I knew it was a mistake to put an Abolitionist into such a place of responsibility.  Soon the slaves will be putting on airs and whose fault will that be?  Yours!"

With that the Mayor stormed out.  Jake chewed on the end of his pipe, looking like he'd prefer to grind his teeth, then he blew out his breath in a huge sigh.  "Ignore him, Doctor.  Remember what I said about some not being as great as others?  He's one of those."

"He said you're an Abolitionist."

"That I am, and one of the few open ones.  I'm blessed with the security of my position, and the fact that they can't find anyone else willing to do it, that I can be so open about it."

"What slaves?" asked Jenny.

"I'll explain it later, Jenny," said Donna as she pulled Jenny upstairs, undoubtedly to do just that.  "I think the Doctor and the Sheriff need to have a talk now that cards are on the table that weren't before."

With that the two other women left the Doctor and the Sheriff alone in the office.  "I didn't even think of the consequences of not being white in a southern state before the nineteen hundreds, and for that I am sorry."

"Again, not your fault.  Personally, I think you're a godsend.  Perhaps you're just what's needed around here to shake those pigheaded dimwits to pull their heads out of the sand.  If not, then when you leave I think it's time I did too," he admitted, then caught what else she had said.  "What do you mean 'before the nineteen hundreds'?  Like you could have chosen any other time to arrive..."

"I could have, Sheriff, and I think after seeing that chimera last night that you are more inclined to think wider.  I'm not from here..."

"Of course not, you're a Canadian with roots from abroad."

The Doctor laughed.  "I'm a little more alien than that.  Jake... my name isn't pronounceable by normal humans.  Some can, after a few tries, but I'm not exactly from Earth... period."

The Sheriff blinked, and then his frame of understanding filled in what she meant and he found himself on his knees faster than he could think.  "Holy Lord in Heaven, you're an angel sent from God above to exorcise the demon I saw last night..."

"Sheriff.."

"Forgive me, and I had become so familiar with you..."

"Jake..."

"I have sinned..."

"Jake!  I'm not an angel, or a demon.  I mean what I say... I'm simply alien.  There are other worlds beyond Earth, like there are other continents, countries and islands outside of the Union and the Confederation.  It doesn't mean I'm some sort of heavenly creature better than you, I'm just another person.  It's just that my planet is... was... a long way away.  But I'm as mortal as you.  I just travel in a ship from place to place, same as you would travel in a steamer or sail ship from port to port.  My ship is just a bit more advanced," she explained, putting a hand on the bridge of her nose.

Jake got up and sat down in a chair, leaning forward, still a bit shocked but at least a bit more steady.  "Wow, when you said you were exotic I didn't think you were that exotic.  So, just another mortal in this world... er... universe.  So there's life... up there..." He pointed up.  "Life that isn't angels or demons, but just life that is mortal and from other places that are different.  Like Europe and India."

"Yes, just like that."  The Doctor laughed.  "Some of it is amazing.  Some frightening.  Some friendly... some not."

"Doesn't sound so different as here," he said.  "And you travel in ships?"

"Yes."

"How?  I mean, we haven't even got machines that fly.  Perhaps we might, seeing as we have machines that now travel on metal rails, but that would mean you can fly, right?"

"Yes."

"That's just amazing.  But why are you here?  What have we got that you don't?" he asked.

She sighed.  "Remember what Jenny said about me.  That much is true.  I'm here to help.  And then I'll leave.  I may look as you do, but I'm not the same."

"Why are you so sad?" he asked, and she looked up at him in shock.  "I'm sorry, that was too forward of me."

"No, Jake, that was perceptive of you.  I... outside of Jenny and Donna... I am very rare in the universe now.  My kind is almost... well... extinct.  We were nearly wiped out in a war and much of my family is dead.  I only have Jenny, my son and a great-grandmother left from my entire family."  She swallowed.  "It's not exactly something I like to talk about."

Jake leaned back, suddenly understanding.  "I'm guessing you're longer lived than our little human race."

"Much.  My grandfather was a few thousand years old, near as anyone can guess, when he died.  My great-grandmother, his mother, is a few more on him and looks as you do.  I'm nearly a hundred and fifty, which is young, and my son is just nearing a hundred and is only a very, very young man.  A teen to you."

Jake shook his head.  "Your life is so different but yet so much the same.  I can see why, especially now, being so superficial as to colour of skin is so meaningless.  It is even more clear now that it was before I met you."  He leaned forward and took her hand.  "And for that you have my most profound thanks."

* * * * * * * *

  
The town meeting that afternoon didn't go much better than the 'meeting' earlier that day with the mayor.  All four showed, and the Doctor let Donna appear to take the lead.  "What I don't understand is why we need her," said one person in the crowd.

"If not for her, we wouldn't have even had the lead we currently have.  She was brave enough to not hide behind closed doors praying the monster under the bed was going to come and get her -- she ran out to save someone.  Something I don't see any of you doing!" boomed the Sheriff’s voice.  "I asked, time and again, for deputies.  No one stepped forward.  These three did so.  I'd say you need to be a bit more appreciative of that fact."

There was a long and uncomfortable silence in the hall.  "Well, be that as it may, the original problem stands.  We have live witnesses who saw what happened.  Now we know who to look for and can form a posse to go hunt the murdering bastard down."

"What we saw wasn't human," said the Doctor.

"If it ain't human, what is it?" asked a man in the back corner.

The Sheriff was silent for a time.  "Not sure.  Some sort of beast.  Nasty, too.  The Doctor here chased it off, but saw which way it headed."

"Then we form a hunting party... kill it before it kills more people," said the Mayor.

* * * * * * * *

  
The next day, bright and early found the Sheriff, as well as the Doctor and Jenny sat on the horses as the others also mounted up.  "I still say we don't need them," said one of the men darkly.  "It'd be best for womenfolk to stay behind.  They'd only slow us down."

"I still think it'd be best if we went ahead on our own... you'd only get in the way," retorted the Doctor in a rare showing of temper.

Both Jenny and Donna stared at her in shock, and she sighed.  "This era is already getting to me," she said softly so only they heard.  "Let's get this over with so we can go back to the TARDIS."

Finally they rode out, following in the direction as the Doctor had saw the creature head to.  The area didn't have much in the way of cover although the hills were rolling.  "We'll follow the Trinity," said the Sheriff  "According to you, the direction seems to be going up river."

As they rode, the Doctor noticed who tended to band together and who avoided the other.  The Sheriff led them, followed by the Doctor and then the rest of the men who decided they were joining them, and then by Jenny in the back.  They rode for the morning, and eventually reached Oak Cliff, a small town that sat closest to Dallas itself.  "Well, we never received reports from here about any strange killings at night," mentioned the Sheriff as the other town's sheriff came out to meet them.

"Jake, I don't usually see you up this far."

"Hello Cal.  Dallas has been in a bit of trouble these past weeks, as you know.  Are you sure there's been no sign this way?" asked the Sheriff

"Not one.  Had a bit of trouble a while back, but it was a drunk and we threw 'im out of the saloon and he slept it off at the inn.  Don't tell me you rode all this way with a posse seeking out something as minor as that," said the other sheriff

"I wish it was, but no... we finally had a witness see which direction our problem run off to.  Said he ran up river.  Thought maybe you might have saw someone come into town."

"Nope.  At least, not from your way.  Had a few of them Mormons, but nothin' else.  Anything else I can help with?"

"No, thanks anyway Cal.  We'll head back and disappoint our mayor.  Maybe we'll catch a different break."

They turned the horses around, waving to the other sheriff as they left.  "Well, that was a bust," said the Sheriff

The Doctor shook her head.  "Not so.  It did head up the Trinity.  Is there any other place it could have changed direction to head to?"

"Maybe the bush, but other than that, nope," answered one of the men in the back.  "If what you say is true and it wasn't a man but some sort of beast, then we don't need a posse, we need a huntin' party."

"So this was a waste of time?" asked Jenny, puzzled.

"Nah, little lady, we rode up to Oak Cliff, confirmed the farthest it could have gone in the direction it ran off to, and closed the search area up some," said another.  "We're closing in on it, that's for sure.  Maybe on our way back... we'll ride a little slower to see if we catch other details we might have missed, see if there was any tracks."

* * * * * * *

  
They rode back into town, dusty and tired.  The Doctor slid off the horse and walked into the sheriff’s office to sit down and put her head on the desk.  Donna looked up from the filing cabinet, walked over and gave the Doctor a fresh cup of tea.  "Thanks, Donna."

"Any luck?"

"Not really, no, but we have a better idea of its range.  It headed off towards the Trinity River, but it didn't cross it or go up river like we thought.  Nor did it go down river, according to the other posse that went that way.  That means it's either here in town, but somewhere near the river, or it went east," answered the Doctor after she drained half her cup in two gulps.  "I think I'm going to take a nap.  Wake me at sunset."

"Sure, no problem."

The Doctor went upstairs, the weariness plain in the way she moved.  Moments later, Jenny bounded in, her eyes bright.  "Is that tea?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Donna.  "So, what is the plan now?"

"Well, it appears to be a matter of waiting until sundown and for the creature to come out, then corral it and chase it down.  The Doctor's plan is to use that only to also chase it to the TARDIS, herd it onto the TARDIS and have the TARDIS put it into a room that is closest to its natural habitat, find out where it comes from and return it home.  We're going to have to run like mad, since she figures it will be at this point our backup will become a lynch mob that will be out to likely arrest us or kill us, she's not sure which," answered Jenny quietly, and then she grinned.  "Exciting!  Is it always like this?"

Donna let her head sink down so that it suddenly rested on the top of the filing cabinet.  "Yes... far too often... it's just like this."

* * * * * * * *

  
The only thing left was to wait for sunset.

The Doctor spent it sleeping, while Donna spent it wandering the soon to be historical core of the town.  Modern Dallas, in Donna's time, was not the tiny village it was now.  It was this once in a lifetime chance to see it as it had been when it all began.  Jenny, having no idea and therefore not as 'lost' as Donna, spent her remaining hours with the Sheriff as he wandered the town on his rounds.

As the sun began to cast longer and longer shadows, they wandered back to the office where the Doctor served a rather large dinner.

Jenny and Donna stayed inside to do the dishes while the Doctor and the Sheriff went back out to the porch to watch the sun go down over the Trinity River.  "I get this feeling that one way or the other this is the last time we'll do this."

"I have every intention of ending this nightmare for your city tonight, Sheriff"

"City?" he asked, puzzled.

"As you said, the rail will change many things."

"Yeah, but..."  He shook his head.  "You are a strange on, I'll give you that.  So... will I ever see you again?"

She blinked in surprise at the sudden turn in the conversation.  "Jake, I think..."

"If the answer is no, Susan, just let me hope."  He turned back to the setting sun.  "I'm not usually a man that likes uncertainty, but I don't think I could handle the thought of not ever seeing you again."

"Jake..." the Doctor turned to look at him.  "There is a good chance that many will die tonight.  And no matter what happens, I doubt you'll see me again... or that you'll want to... but I have been surprised in the past by my own life. So perhaps you will."

"I can handle that at least.  Gives a man hope."

* * * * * * * *

  
Not only did those in the Sheriff’s office wait in nervous anticipation, so did most of the town.  There was more than one lantern lit all throughout the town.  Finally, the Doctor, having enough of waiting, ventured outside, sonic in hand.  The Sheriff, with his rifle at the ready followed.

She turned to Jenny and Donna.  "You head that way, Jake and I will head this way.  Meet back up in the next street.  We'll sweep the town street by street.  Make yourselves as noticeable as possible.  Maybe we can lure it out into the open."

With the Sheriff escorting her, the Doctor turned to the south and began to walk down the street, looking into each alley.  Finally, they heard the screech of something in between a coyote and eagle, and then the frightened scream of a child.  "Help!" cried a boy in the distance.

The Doctor ran towards the sound and Jake hurried to keep up.  Donna!  Jenny!  South by southeast of the office!

On our way, came Donna's telepathic response.

Turning another corner, she saw the creature, not quite touching a young boy who crouched, crying in fear, hands all but digging into his eyes as he desperately tried not to look. The Doctor kept her gaze on the creature, which strangely seemed perplexed but also aggressive... passively... but still aggressive as it circled, screeching and squawking, trying to be where the child would look.

It was then the Doctor figured out why the creature hunted.  "Don't look at the creature," said the Doctor to the Sheriff, relaying the same to Jenny and Donna telepathically.  "If you see it directly, that's its cue to kill. If you don't see it, it won't attack you."

Jake kept his gun at the ready, but stared at the ground, at the shadow of the beast.  The Doctor stepped forward, and, holding the sonic up, looked directly at the creature and into its eyes.  "That's right, you, I see you."

It backed off the child, and hissed its displeasure but didn't seem to wish to attack her.  She realized the other half.  Fear.  It was a predator, which meant two things.  First was the instinct to kill was off the sense of sight.  If it was seen, it would kill if the creature saw it.  No fear meant another predator that was either its equal or higher up on the food chain.  Because the Doctor exhibited no fear and even approached it while looking directly at it, it clearly felt that she was the aggressor.

Now it would go one of two ways.  Either it would run like it had before or it would attack in response to what it perceived as her challenge.  If it ran, they'd be back to square one.

She needed it to attack her, and unfortunately, it would have to be put down.  It was an aggressive predator in an ecology that had no challenger for it.  She would have loved to had tried to find its natural environment but that wasn't an option here.  There was too many innocents at risk.

Jenny and Donna were not close enough.  It was just her and Jake.

The Doctor didn't hesitate but ran in and right up to the creature, buzzing it in the face with the sonic screwdriver.  "Run!" she shouted to the child and, thankfully, he did.

She felt a light touch and knew that the original vision had come from him, but she didn't have time to think about it now.  The creature reared up and bared its claws, and Jake came alive at the same time, shooting his gun above its head to discourage it from escaping.  The hybrid crouched, and coiled up, as it and the Doctor circled each other.  Jake pulled out a mirror, and then his revolver as he ducked around the corner, using the mirror to aim and watch the fight.

Now that he had a better look he knew she didn't stand a prayer on her own.

The creature lashed out with a claw, and he was surprised to see her move before his eye actually manage to track the movement.  The creature reared up again and he fired above its head to bring it back down.  The Doctor ducked in, striking it above what could have been an elbow, making one arm hang uselessly, rolled under its legs and behind it, kicking at the back of a knee and then neatly sweeping out its legs with a leg sweep.

It fell heavily to the ground, knocking a bunch of crates and boxes flying.  There was a screech of pain and it rolled around in a rage, trying to find its footing, its stunted wings flapping.  Finally, it punched into the side of a wooden wall, knocking a lantern over on the other side.  The lit lantern fell, broke, and the kerosene oil spread, taking the fire with it.  The Doctor backed out of the alley, watching as the building went up and the creature rolled out, its feathers burning as it ran blindly into another building, only to keel over, likely dead.  Only... it spread the fire that way.

"Holy mother of God," murmured Jake in shock.  "FIRE!  FIRE!"

The town came alive as people came out, trying to put out the fires, but they only spread as the wooden buildings, made of dry wood and almost on top of each other, began to burn.  Donna, the Doctor and Jenny watched in horror.  "Jake!  Make a water line with buckets!" called the Doctor, and he whistled.

The townspeople formed a line to pass water and buckets as they fought the fire.  The Doctor backed away, taking Donna and Jenny with her.  It was then that Jake ran into a building to save a screaming woman... the Doctor tried to follow but watched in horror as the building collapsed on him.

"Jake!" screamed the Doctor, stricken.

"Doctor!  There's nothing you can do!  He's gone," Donna grabbed her before she could follow him.  "He's gone... and it's time we were too."

* * * * * * * *

  
From a distance, when the sun rose over the smouldering and blackened ruins of Dallas, three women watched a town pick its way out of the wreckage.  "In July 1860 a fire would rip through Dallas," said the Doctor, as if by rote.  "The townsfolk would blame the slaves, and run the abolitionists out.  In a way, its better Jake died before he could see innocent people murdered by neighbours and run out of a town he saved from a creature that would have hunted every single last person down as food before moving to the next.  Come on, it's time we moved on."

A child ran up to the blue box, remembered the voice of a woman who had saved him the night before.  Having followed her he was shocked to see the box fade from view as if it had never been.

He stood in the perfectly square, flattened area of prairie grass and looked up in the sky.  His mother ran up to him.  "Canton!  Don't you ever run off on me like that again, do you hear?"

"Yes momma," he answered as he took her hand and followed her back to the farmstead they called home.


	4. Crush Depth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew of the TARDIS finds themselves in a future Earth, on an underwater station with an unstable volcanic rift right beside it.

The Doctor was more than a bit surprised that when she went to open the doors, the TARDIS refused. Jenny and Donna looked on with a bit of surprise. "Why won't she let you leave?" asked Donna.

"The TARDIS has this circuit that will prevent departure if stepping outside would result in injury, illness…death… anything that would adversely affect the occupants," answered the Doctor. "I'm running a scan of the outside now. Seems odd that she would land us somewhere and we can't even go outside."

"Perhaps there's a Rift nearby," said Jenny. "She needs to refuel, so she parked here. She won't let us out and we'll have to relax inside."

The Doctor looked up from the screen. "Actually, it's a matter of acclimation. It's survivable out there, though. There are humans in that base living there just fine... we're at a depth of approximately 3600 feet underwater, just off the coast of New England. Local time is... September 9th, 2024. Not far off of Torchwood Three's time line. Only about a decade off."

"We're under the sea?" asked Donna, her voice rising like it usually did when she was surprised by something.

The Doctor grinned. "So... why isn't the TARDIS letting us out?" asked Jenny.

"As I said, it's a matter of acclimation. Normally, humans would require a certain amount of time to acclimate to the extreme depth through a series of stages in which their very air would be changed to prevent a condition called "The Bends", a very real danger when working under the ocean due to the extreme pressures. Ironically, something that spacefarers don't have to worry about nearly as much although we travel on and off of planets all the time."

"So, if humans need acclimation, what about Gallifreyans?" asked Donna.

"As a species, normally we don't have that issue until we get to a depth that would kill humans even after acclimation time... but.... there is a window where both species need that time. Such as where we begin to require it and near the point where humans are at their maximum limit," explained the Doctor. "It so happens that this base is at that very point, which is why the TARDIS won't let us out. At least, not until I initiate the acclimation. I would point out that if you need anything from your rooms or from the interior of the TARDIS, now is the time to bring it into the console because once she begins the acclimation cycle, the interior doors are going to close until we acclimate back."

* * * * * * *

The trio stepped out of the TARDIS and Donna looked around and up. "Now this is impressive, Space Girl. On our own bloody planet and in another world. Not even that far off our own time!"

The Doctor smiled as they gazed above and up into the inky dark where there was the faintest hint of light filtering down from above. Nothing moved. They were at a depth where not much could live down here. "The Bear Seamount, on the ledge made by a millions of year old underwater volcano... extinct now, Donna, so I wouldn't worry about it. This was formed when the North American Plate moved over the New England hotspot, cutting off the magma supply. Specifically this is a guyot."

"How do you know all this stuff, seriously?" asked Jenny. "Dad was just as bad."

"Worse," pointed out Donna. "It was like having a walking encyclopedia in your head when I was the Doctor-Donna, only his mind in that incarnation was one of constant rapid fire information, ups and downs... he was a mess... no offense Doctor."

"None taken. Grandfather was... interesting... to say the least. Old age mellowed the rapid fire part, but not his mercurial nature. That was just the way he was. He was always somewhat socially awkward, even among Time Lords and on Gallifrey. No one knew what to make of him. Like an Earth genius, he was considered half-mad and a failure until his actual brilliance outshone everyone. Like many who fall through the cracks, he wasn't a failure he was simply bored and too far ahead of everyone else that they just didn't know what to do with him. So they rejected him instead. Tried, and failed, to make him conform to their standards. It wasn't until he was long out of the Academy and on his own, and then allowed to return, that some realized just how truly genius he was... even in comparison to other Time Lords. He had no equal. Not even the Master and I think that always bothered Koschei... among other issues that I won't get into," answered the Doctor, and then she waved it off. "Anyway, enough of that."

"You didn't answer the question," said Jenny suddenly. "Such as how you know all that!"

The Doctor stopped for a moment, then grinned. "I looked it up before we left."

"On what?" asked Donna.

"You think that monitor on the console is only good for navigation? I have a direct link to any and every encyclopedic entry on board the TARDIS as well as a constantly updated database every time we land somewhere. The TARDIS simply looks up the nearest connection and downloads and updates, comparing accuracy with what we have personally observed. It's part of her original mission... she was a scientific and observation ship when she was first commissioned... so she continually does it. However, I didn't have to this time. The information was on Wikipedia. My grandfather used the same databases before we went anywhere to have a heads up on what might be going on in the area," answered the Doctor.

Donna and Jenny looked at each other. "So... he wasn't always just talking from memory?" asked Donna.

"Some of the time, he was. After so long certain facts stay with you, like anyone else. And he had lived a very, very long time before you even met him. After all... he was a great-grandfather by Gallifreyan standards and so was very old by our standards," explained the Doctor. "It was only natural that he would know plenty without having to refer to the databases."

"If this is an underwater volcano, why is it flat?" asked Jenny, looking out across the plain.

"As I said before, it's a guyot... otherwise known as a table mount... which means it's like the name says. Flat topped, like the top of a table, in the middle of nowhere. The more scientific... and encyclopedic answer is that a table mount is 'an isolated underwater volcanic mountain, or sea mount, over two six hundred and sixty feet below the sea's surface.' Versus a sea mount that looks like an underwater mountain," answered the Doctor. "The fact that's it flat signifies that sometime in its life it was in fact above the sea and the waves eventually eroded it flat. The fact that it's a sea mount means that drop off plummets down another three thousand feet, well past human tolerances."

"And for a Gallifreyan?" asked Donna.

"Pushes our limits, but not unknown for us to survive it. Not something I'd want to test, however, so let's avoid the edge," answered the Doctor, looking around.

She led them into the rest of the base, and once away from the view she didn't notice part of the edge fall away.

* * * * * * * * *

  
**ACT ONE**  


* * * * * * * * *

Donna followed the Doctor as they meandered through the corridors of the base. So far she had not seen anything that said 'military'…the entire installation was definitely modular and made to be functional, but did little by way of being attractive. It was the complete opposite of attractive, actually. Donna didn't know what to think and finally she said, "This isn't half as advanced as Midnight was."

"It's state of the art for the time period, particularly considering the depth. We're at the maximum limit of humanity, the very edge of what they can handle. And yet they find a way to survive at the very bottom of their ocean. It's a world more alien than space and more deadly to reach and they haven't even left their world to find it. Humans are like that... as were the Time Lords." The Doctor frowned. "For a far younger race humans are following very closely in our footsteps. I can only hope it won't have the same ending."

"What's 'midnight' refer to?" asked Jenny, sensing a certain amount of tension in the air suddenly.

"Not a highlight of Grandfather's life," answered the Doctor. "Actually, was something that if he forgot it he wouldn't have complained. It shaped him... and shaped the Valeyard in the end."

Jenny thought about this, and the Doctor could see another question about to asked about something she wasn't comfortable with answering when movement at the end of the corridor caught her eye. She turned and a man, dressed as a technician, was standing at the T-junction with a confused look on his face. "Excuse me, but who are you?" he asked. "I don't recognize you from the personnel lists..."

The Doctor slipped out and then held up the psychic paper, walking up to it and reading at the same time. "That's strange, but this is clearly our papers and we came in on the last sub, perhaps your copy of the paperwork was lost?"

For a moment the technician hesitated, but with a shrug, he finally said, "Well, I suppose there'd be no other way for you to even get here. I still have to report you..."

"... As well you should, given the circumstances... three missing personnel records is a fairly serious loss in the HR department," pointed out Donna, picking up the cue from the Doctor. "My name is Donna. I was sent here for administrative management. None too soon, from the look of it."

The scientist, or technician, frankly the Doctor wasn't sure but didn't care so long as he didn't raise too much of a fuss. Thankfully, he appeared to be properly mollified at Donna's sudden jump into the conversation. "No kidding," he admitted. "I'm overloaded as it is. With all this paperwork dumped on my desk I have no time for my real work. Are you also admins?"

The Doctor shook her head. "No! No... I'm Dr. Susan Foreman-Campbell of..." She very quickly racked her brain for a viable organization to work for and figured if push came to shove, given the year, Pete Tyler would at least vouch for her. "... of Torchwood Three out of Cardiff. Don't bother asking..."

"Oh." The tone from the scientist was suddenly flat. "You're one of those. Section 4-A... complete opposite end from here... is where you'll find more of your people."

Jenny tittered, and even Donna was biting her bottom lip and the Doctor looked at him in mock annoyance. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing... you seem pretty decent... but those folk are a bit on the strange side. No idea why they're here and they keep to themselves. Their lab is off limits... er... your lab is off limits... to the rest of us."

"Strange how?" asked Jenny.

"Well, I have no idea what they're researching, if anything... for all I know it's not lab space but archival space in the most secure area on Earth... but the scientists don't seem the type, if you catch my meaning. Not like you... you give off the 'scientist' vibe. They don't," he answered, then sighed. "And I've talked way too much. Not that I care, but I'm not the gossipy type and I've just supplied you with the year's worth of gossip on this rock."

"How boring," mused Donna, ignoring the Doctor's sharp look.

"And your credentials, miss?"

"Ah, this is Jenny... and she's my personal assistant," answered the Doctor.

"Very well, I'll just leave you to it. The administrative office is down that hall, take your first left, then the second door on your right... not far from where you got off the sub to get here. Why are you in this section? You would have had to walk right past it..."

"We, ah, decided to take a walkabout in the non-classified sections to get a feel for the station. It was crowded on that sub," answered Jenny quickly. "Sorry, my fault."

"Oh, I understand. Sometimes it still feels like the ocean is pressing in on you, but the views from that side are spectacular," he agreed, his questions answered enough that any niggling doubts were smoothed over. "Let me know if you, ah, ever want another walk. I'd love to take you on a tour."

"Okay," answered Jenny, smiling brightly and she was rewarded with a dazed smile from the scientist in return.

"I'll, ah, I'll be in my lab if you ever need to find me..." He turned to walk away, then turned back as if he realized he had forgotten something. "Oh! I guess it would help if I told my name and where to find me, eh?" Jenny nodded. "I'm Craig Eibl... my speciality is physio-kinetics..."

"Pleased to meet you, Craig," she said. "I'm sure we'll run into each other again."

"I hope so..." And with that last statement, he walked away.

"Well, who needed the psychic paper..." said the Doctor, chuckling in amusement. "Jenny just needs to smile more often."

* * * * * * *

The trio followed the Doctor into the administrative office where they could hear Donna's horrified intake of breath. There was no small wonder on why they had simply been accepted into the fold with little to no questions asked. The office was a disaster with piles of paper everywhere. "I though the point of computers and those pad thingies were to prevent this," pointed out Jenny in shock.

"Yeah, the funny part about that was it made it worse," answered Donna. "Oi!"

At the sound of her whip crack like exclamation brought the lone office administrator, a rather over worked looking young man, running out from the back. "Yes, hello?" he asked.

"You the only one here?" asked Donna, immediately walking in to pick up files.

"Yes, ma'am... I'm the only one here."

"As in the only one ever here?" asked the Doctor, surprised.

He nodded again. "Ah, who are you three, anyway?"

"Relief, evidently," answered Donna, as she began to pick up file folders and papers to clear off the main desk. "This is Doctor Susan Foreman-Campbell, and her intern Jennifer... er—"

"—Smith—" supplied the Doctor.

"—And her intern Jennifer Smith," finished Donna. "I will be working in here with you and they will be working in the labs."

The young man immediately brightened. "Oh thank God," he breathed in relief. "You know I've been asking for someone to help me out, or for me to help them, forever but you're the first that they've sent in months to actually help me. I have no idea what Torchwood is doing in their bloody lab but all I can say is—"

"Torchwood is here?" The Doctor looked over at the others. "Anyone in particular?"

"What, with them?" He made a noise like an exasperated sigh. "You're the only two that have ever introduced themselves. They typically breeze in and breeze out like ghosts, officially. We sort of socialize and maybe catch a first name here and there at dinner."

That confirmed what they had found this morning. The Doctor thought for a second and then smiled and asked, "Donna, Jenny... can you come with me for a second?" She turned to the young man. "Girl talk."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

She pulled them into the office and closed the door, using her sonic to fry out any listening devices. The two woman looked at her in puzzlement. "Listen, Gwen told me about the very first time she encountered Torchwood. She said it was the very worst kept top secret... top secret. Ianto had a habit of ordering pizza and charging it to..."

At that very moment, the door to the office slammed open and standing in the doorway, with a very apologetic administrator very quickly retreating out into the hallway behind him, was Jack Harkness. "Doctor."

"Jack. It did rather have your style. Cardiff not to your taste anymore?" asked the Doctor, a smile barely touching her lips.

"Yeah. Something like that. Donna, Jenny, can you give us a moment?"

The other two women, with Donna giving the Doctor a squeeze on the arm as she passed by, also walked into the hallway where the other man waited. "So, I never did catch your name," said Donna.

"It's Jason Lancaster," he answered.

"Jason," said Donna, holding out her hand to shake his, and he took it. "Donna Noble."

* * * * * * *

Jack didn't say anything. She had walked out of his life, and even from New Gallifrey, two years ago and they'd never heard from her since. Until now, in the middle of an underwater base far from shore and at a depth deep enough that getting here was no casual trip. When the rumour mill had got around within hours of the sudden and relatively unexplained presence of three women, one of whom had identified herself as 'the Doctor' Jack had known the truth instantly.

It hadn't been an administrative error that had 'missed' the trio on the sub here when those on the sub couldn't say one way or the other if they had been there or not.

Everyone else had bought their story because there was no other way - to their knowledge - that the three woman had slipped in without being questioned even if they had caused a bit of a stir when finally noticed.

Jack knew the real method of their arrival, and eventual departure, was the TARDIS.

He simply stared at her and she stared back, her eyes not giving one inch of an answer. She had left him three years ago. He had no idea if it had been that long for her and frankly it didn't matter.

She left him.

And he wasn't sure he was ready to accept her sudden reappearance, even if the world was coming to an end. After all, it was likely the TARDIS had brought her here and when the TARDIS chose a destination it wasn't random.

"Jack, I—"

"—Eleven years, Arkytior. _Eleven_."

"I'm sorry, what?" The confusion on her face was evident.

"That's how long it's been since you left me in Cardiff with no word other than you had to lead your people. And then you left them too!" The last was said in a shout he didn't doubt for a second that the three people outside the office heard through the bulkheads. He took a breath and continued in a lower voice. "You told me that you'd be back and then you left me."

"You decided to go back to Ianto," shot back the Doctor. "What else did you want from me?"

Jack blinked at the sudden sharp response from her. He was used to cool detachment, or tentative, shy displays of affection hidden behind protocol, similar to the slow spread of ripples in deep deep water. The only love he had from her had been that of a virgin on a date while her father breathed down her neck. Not the instinctive, passionate part. Even if all he got from her now was this little bit of anger, it was at least a small iceberg tip bobbing up from the real part he'd tried to tap before. He took a step closer to her. "Some sign that you actually cared whether we were an item or not... which you never did."

"I did!"

"You left me. And then when I had the balls to be honest, you really left me. Eleven years, that's how long it's been since you walked away from Antarctica. And, on that, you haven't even asked how your own people are doing."

"Very well," she answered, and Jack could have shook her for falling back behind the same masks again. "How are they doing?"

"Just fine. They held their first election to pick a new President of the High Council after they gave you two years to come back to your post. After that they decided they couldn't wait anymore and had to elect someone else. Some young one with a name I can't even begin to pronounce... small wonder your grandfather and you resorted to completely different nicknames... got in. Nice young man... I think. Never could tell with your people how old you _really_ were, especially when your masks slam down and can't tell when you're feeling or not."

"Jack, that was just a low blow and you know it." She _had_ to call him out on that one. "Now you're just being petty. What is it you want to say?"

He opened his mouth but whatever it was he was about to say was lost when a rumble rolled through the base. Files and books fell off shelves. Jack found himself instinctively throwing himself over the Doctor, knocking her to the ground as one of the heavy steel shelves came down on them. He had a momentary flashback to that planet where she had lain mostly unconscious when the TARDIS had crashed.

And then the world faded.

* * * * * * *

  
**ACT TWO**  


* * * * * * *

The Doctor was a bit dazed but otherwise uninjured. However, she could sense the exit of Jack Harkness and the temporary absence of the Fixed Point. But, she knew... and then he was back. He choked back to life again and she saw him blink in the darkness. "Relax, you're not blind. It's just that dark in here."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, that sums it up."

"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked in a whisper, and she felt his fingers touch her head, running his fingers through her hair along her scalp.

The touches were soft, and he probably thought he'd covered his ass enough to fool her into believing that it was out of concern of injury. Oh, part probably was. The other she could sense as he unintentionally ran his fingers over the contact points that let her hear his surface thoughts and more than just a little bit of his surface feelings. While he was very, very angry and more so hurt from her sudden departure she could sense the real reason was he had fallen so very hard for her. He'd fallen just as hard for Ianto – which was why his feelings were a tangled mess – and he couldn't untangle them.

And then she'd left him.

But now she lay under him and while it was to save her from injury, and likely an unnecessary regeneration. Jack was confused. She had to... had to... "Jack."

"Yes?" came his soft whisper.

"We can't do this."

"I know. There's a rather heavy shelf on my head and neck."

She gave a short bark of laughter at his rather astute observation. Finally, light filtered in and the weight lifted from them as the rescue crew came in. Jack pushed himself up off her and then helped the Doctor to her feet as the two rescue technicians helped them out. The corridor outside appeared unharmed, but the office was a mess. Donna and Jenny helped them to the other side as paramedics checked them over. "Are you two all right?" asked Jenny.

"A bit bruised, and dusty, but none the worse for wear," answered the Doctor.

There was an awkward silence after a moment as they looked from the Doctor to Jack and back again. "So... do you two still need a moment?" asked Donna.

"No," answered Jack. "I think we were about done in there."

"Were we?" asked the Doctor.

"Unless you had something to add?"

She shook her head and Jack stalked off down the corridor. Donna watched him go and turned to the Doctor. "Well, that certainly complicates things."

* * * * * * *

A few hours later, Jack looked up and saw the lab assistants showing the Doctor around the lab. Jenny was a few steps behind, falling into her role as the intern, Jennifer Smith. Inwardly, Jack fumed. Ianto looked over, followed Jack's gaze and froze in shock. "What the bloody hell is she doing here?" he asked, and then a few minutes later another thought caught up with him. "Oh great, now the base will blow up."

Jack snorted. "We already had a sea quake, Ianto, in an area that's supposed to be seismically quiet. You really think that was a coincidence?"

Ianto blinked, and then shook his head. "Great."

* * * * * * *

After her tour, the Doctor walked up to Ianto. She steeled herself, fully expected this to be as awkward as the surprise meeting with Jack. Ianto turned, and there was none of the warmth that she had come to expect when he had travelled with her and Jack on the TARDIS, confirming her suspicion that he was just as upset, or even more so, than Jack was with her. "Doctor, I must admit I'm rather surprised to see you here."

"Ianto Jones," she said. "I'm just as surprised to find you and Jack here... and Torchwood."

"Ah," he said as he realized why she was in front of him.

Straight to the ever professional point, or whatever passed as a profession with her. As Jack had said, there was no coincidence that things were starting to go sideways at her random appearance. "So... why is Torchwood here?" she finally asked.

"I'm not entirely sure I'm at liberty to say," he answered without even taking a moment to think about it.

"Ianto..."

"I know what you're about to say and quite frankly, no, I won't tell you. I might have before you abandoned us, Doctor, but right now you might find us a bit less than willing to let you into it," finished Ianto for her. "Don't even bother asking. If Jack feels you need to know, then you'll know."

"As simple as that, then." Ianto couldn't be sure, but she seemed a bit upset by this. "Very well, I'll let you get back to whatever it is."

"Please do," he said as he turned back to what he was doing. "I trust you can find your own way out, Doctor, I have too much work to do right now."

She did finally turn around and walk back out of the office and Ianto sighed. Any doubt about seeding the very seeds of doubt in Jack's mind about her fidelity suddenly were justified. Perhaps Jack would eventually forgive her, but it would probably be a long time after Ianto himself was gone. He hated himself for his part in this, but she really did have the tendency to just leave when it suited her. Jack would have been hurt and Ianto didn't want to have to pick up the pieces of a worse fallout if they'd continued on the way he had seen their relationship developing.

He was surprised a moment later when he was faced with a very pissed off looking Donna Noble.

"What did you do?" she demanded as she closed the door.

* * * * * * *

The Doctor wandered. If Jack wasn't going to let her know what was going on, then why ever the TARDIS had brought them here would never come to light. Eventually she found herself back at the TARDIS so she pushed open the doors and slid down them on the inside once they closed, letting her head rest on her arms as she pulled her legs close.

"Maybe Jack is why you're here."

The Doctor blinked and looked up. In front of the console, just how she remembered him, only in a difference incarnation, stood a holographic representation of her grandfather.

The TARDIS chose her avatars according to the lead Time Lord, she remembered her lessons back at the Academy saying. Whatever, or whomever, that lead needed he or she would have as a sounding board and interface to the time ship. Today it was Seven, which was an incarnation she had never met, but she wished she had.

"Is that all?" she asked. "So you bring me to a point eleven years on where neither of us can get away from each other because it's us and a few atmospheric pressures of ocean above us?"

"Perhaps not, perhaps it is. Perhaps it's one of the reasons, if even not the only one. Our Fixed Point will need us, and you will need your Fixed Point. But perhaps the biggest reason we are here is to help fix the Broken One. All of these will... be better explained with Time."

"The Broken One?" asked the Doctor as she stood up when the avatar faded. "Wait a second, who is that? Who is the Broken One?"

_Past mistake/present/crumble/salt_

With that the contact faded into the normal background song. The TARDIS had done what she could to make it obvious to her Time Lord, now it was up to the Time Lord to figure it out.

* * * * * * *

Ianto stared at Donna. "What do you mean?"

"You said something to Jack, didn't you?" Donna didn't care that she had just bluntly accused Ianto of meddling with Jack and the Doctor's relationship before it had a chance to go anywhere. "I don't find it a coincidence that he chose to go back to you at the same time he chose to not wait for the Doctor anymore."

"I listened to him, and when he came for advice I gave it. I called it how I saw it, Donna, I didn't go out of my way to purposely break them up, if that's what you think. Do you know how many times he tried to contact her to find that she wasn't available for his call?" he asked plainly. "How many times I assured him, seeing as the shoe was on the other foot, that it wasn't the case. When she went off world I did tell Jack to go ask her why she hadn't been upfront about it to him. Yeah, I admit, I was glad he came back to me but I was more surprised by it. After all, I just made him lose something he cared about."

Something seemed to lose its heat with her. "Then why do you feel so guilty about it?" she asked gently.

"Because they broke up! My advice, as stupid as it was, broke them up. Oh sure, I got Jack back but losing her shattered a part of him that I can't fix and I know I'll never be able to. I can act as a balm, but only two people can fix it and that's them. Even I can see that. So if you want to judge me, Donna, go to hell."

"I wasn't judging you, you're doing a fine job of that." Donna put a hand on his arm. "You are a balm to him. Right now you are what he needs. Travelling is what the Doctor needs until they can turn to each other with less anger and see what is going on in front of them. Neither of them is right, but at the same time, they're both wrong."

"How can I make him see it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "We can't. We can only wait, hope and help them pick up the pieces but only they can take that and fix what was broken."

* * * * * * *

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS just as the lights in the base went out. Some light did filter down through the ocean, and what little light there was through the heavy clear plastic alloy from the surface was enough to let the Doctor see. Humans would have found it pitch dark, but Gallifreyan eyes were different and had more receptors to pick up light and dark. It wasn't perfect and colour sensitivity was nil but it was at least enough for the Doctor to see where she was going past the lights the TARDIS threw off.

As she passed a corner where the last of the light of the TARDIS lit up her path, her eyes adjusted one final time to the pitch dark.

The strange part was that it wasn't dark.

At least, not as dark as it should have been.

Here and there, a sort of pink afterimage of people walking around... or something moving around. It wasn't people per se but more of what they had left behind in psychic signatures. It was normal and nothing to worry about. However, on the surface, it was usually washed out and not so easily seen as it was here. The Doctor stopped and stared for a long time, trying to get a handle on what she was seeing.

These were psychic traces of the people here, right now, and those who had recently been here since this place had been commissioned. It was so rare to see this that when a Time Lord had the opportunity she didn't waste it to study it up close. The Doctor stopped in the dark and watched, turning her head this way and that until her gaze travelled out to the table mount beyond the glass. Out into the ocean.

For a second she didn't understand what she was seeing.

When she did she froze in shock, and then backed away.

When the lights came on, blinding her with the painful white out of too much light too fast, she didn't mind so long as what she seen was blotted out. She blinked herself back into normal sight and then ran full tilt through the halls back to the main Torchwood lab. Jack looked up at her sudden entrance as she didn't stop until she was two inches from his face. "Jack, you've got a problem."

"I'm not surprised," he sighed.

"What do you mean?" The look on the Doctor's face was rather comical, a mix of confused and rather shocked.

"I mean you're here, aren't you?" he answered. "I was rather expecting something to go sideways very shortly after."

"I'll have you know that there are times when I show up that things don't go 'sideways', but that's besides the point. Jack, I'm not sure how psychic you are, but down here the signatures and traces of others are practically virgin. Not like the surface where the constant wear means that it's more or less whiting out any particular signature." The Doctor waved a hand expansively around the room. "The point is that there is an old, psychic, signature here that predates this facility. Well, when I say psychic, I mean more an energy signature. Feral, old, and deep."

"I'm not following," said Jack.

"This sea mount was formed by a volcano, Jack, you're sitting on top of a volcano. One that shouldn't be here, either. By all rights, with continental drift, the 'volcano' moved to the west and now rests under Mount St. Helen's."

"So... it's a dormant one, right?" asked Ianto as he walked up to them. "If the magma isn't here anymore."

"That's the problem," answered the Doctor. "Whatever you're doing here has caused a temporal overlap. The volcano is still under your feet."

* * * * * * * *

  
**ACT THREE**  


* * * * * * * *

The other scientists in the room all came to a standstill at her pronouncement and one, a geologist, walked over and said, "Madam, what you propose is impossible."

"Yeah, but with her the impossible tends to happen. Dr. Riley, meet the Doctor." Jack motioned to the Doctor. "Former Lady President of the Time Lord High Council and of Gallifrey, and all round pain in my ass."

The murmuring in the room increased tenfold and Ianto whistled through the chaos. "So, if we're sitting on a now active volcano, I can see that being bad. Question is, how did it become active again if what you say is true?" asked Ianto.

"As she said, it shouldn't be," said Dr. Riley. "The magma flow that created the Bowie Tablemount moved hundreds of the miles to the West hundreds of thousands of years ago."

"Yes, and as I said, there's an overlap. A temporal one."

"What you suggest is impossible, madam!"

"Not around her it isn't," pointed out Jack.

For a moment Dr. Riley looked from Jack and back to the Doctor and then back again. Finally the Doctor took a breath and sighed. "Are you now?" asked Dr. Riley.

"I was," answered the Doctor. "And I am Arkytior of Gallifrey, former President of Gallifrey, known as the Doctor."

"Mr. Harkness, I understand that this is your base, but I must strongly protest against this departure from reason if you continue to entertain this Doctor's preposterous claims." Dr. Riley stopped to take a breath. "Furthermore, we have been here for months and there hasn't been one instance to support this cockamamie theory of hers."

"Just what are you researching?" asked Jenny.

"That, young lady, is classified," retorted Dr. Riley, and then he sighed loudly. "Do whatever you want, Harkness, just make sure it doesn't interfere with me or my lab. You know where to find me."

With that he stalked out of the room and down the corridor. Jack sighed emphatically and the Doctor lifted a brow at him. "He's a touchy one."

"Stick up his arse," supplied Ianto.

"That's certainly one way of putting it," said the Doctor.

* * * * * * *

Dr. Riley stalked into his lab, but calmed down as soon as he walked in. Damnable Time Lord interference. He had hoped that with the purely Torchwood staff that their attention would have been avoided. They were brilliant scientists though, he had to give them that. Much as he disliked them and their ilk at any other time.

He nodded to his assistants - all human - and into his office and sat down. He signed into the computer, and then ran the necessary protocols to connect to the server he required. "Dr. Quincy, I was not expecting your call so early. It is not time to report in," responded the polite, but yet puzzled sounding, voice as soon as the familiar triangle was displayed.

"We have an unexpected complication at our base; the Doctor is here."

There was a long, silent pause. "Are you quite sure?"

"Quite, Mr. Harkness is very familiar with her, as is Mr. Jones. They knew it was her."

"Ah... it's the female one is it. Interesting turn of events." Was that a pleased tone in the voice? He'd never heard that before. _Fascinating_ , he thought. _I wonder what that could mean._ "Describe our Time Lady."

"Well, she's approximately 5'4 to 5'6, medium build... not unlike a pit bull. Muscular, broader than typical female human or Gallifreyan build, but still feminine. Medium to dark brown hair, worn mid length. Rather bland in clothing choice, but dressy enough to insinuate herself into offices and still rugged enough for more physically demanding pursuits. Dark blue jeans, dressier top, blazer suit jacket... flats for shoes..."

"....The Lady President. Now that is interesting."

That was definitely a pleased tone. "Dr. Quincy, I would like you increase your testing on the device and increase the frequency of your reports. Include any reaction by our dear Doctor as well."

* * * * * * *

Jack looked up at the knock on his door and called out, "Come in."

He wasn't sure who it would be. Ianto was typically at the other end of the base looking after his end of things as well as serving as the liaison between Head Office and them. It used to be Jack's job but since he left it to travel with the Doctor, and then resigned his post for Peter Tyler, it was now Ianto's. In truth, Jack preferred it that way. Ianto was finally taking on more leadership roles and coming out of his shell. Showing his true capability.

With a sigh, Jack realized that it was likely coming to the point that meant it was time for him to move on and let Ianto have his own life. It wasn't something he was looking forward to. When the door opened and the Doctor awkwardly managed to get herself and two mugs of something hot Jack figured out what, and who, had knocked. He got up and plucked one of the mugs out of her hands and let her lead him back into the room. "What's this?"

"Tea, you idiot," she answered. "What else would it be?"

"Well, coffee... cocoa or hot chocolate..." he listed off. "I understand this you has a thing for chocolate in all its many myriad forms."

"Well... I do... however not right now," she answered as she sat across from him on the other side of his desk, taking a sip of her tea as she did so. "What brings Torchwood to this part of the world?"

"No interference, no collateral issues if something goes wrong."

"Were you expecting trouble?"

"Well no, it was the quiet and lack of outside interference and the ability to keep things classified." Jack took a few more sips of his tea and watched the Doctor. "Look... I miss this."

"Oh?" she asked, almost deliberately obtuse. "You miss the super secret organization?"

"No, dammit, I miss you."

She blinked and Jack caught the sharp intake of breath. "How long has it really been for you... since you left?"

"Not long since you decided it was over and got back together with Ianto."

"Yeah, I'm getting that feeling," he answered bitterly, and then he sighed again. "Look, Doc, I genuinely care about you and... perhaps there is more... but I couldn't just wait like some puppet on your strings. I thought your message was loud and clear. Now I'm getting the feeling it wasn't."

There was a long uncomfortable moment. "I've had a bit more time to get to know other Gallifreyans, Doctor, and... I get it a bit better. You have issues with expressing feelings. Trust me when I suddenly understand where and how you came by that habit – or should I say cultural quirk? I get that some of the misunderstanding came from that, and for that... I'm sorry I leapt to conclusions. I also suddenly get that perhaps you were giving me the Gallifreyan equivalent of your all in the relationship and maybe I wasn't picking up on it," Jack admitted with another sigh. "However, I also understand that you have been around humans enough, and been in human marriage long enough, to know how we deal with relationships and that we're not – as a point – a majorly telepathic species. We don't read minds or feel what others feel by simply feeling those feelings from them directly. We rely on other, less tele-empathic, methods that you need to show a bit more. We also don't date by distance without some sort of contact being kept. I now understand that the typical Time Lord marriage is like this but..."

"I get it, Jack," the Doctor opened her mouth, about to say something else.

Time seemed to stop, but to a Time Lord, she knew what it meant. It was a Time Line Convergence in the making. All at once she was in two times at the same time, even though she was actually technically outside of Time and the neutral observer. She had nanoseconds before she would be part of Time again, and so she stepped the two steps to the side of the magma flow, and with two more steps she pushed herself and Jack from the active flow just as she stepped back into the Time Stream again and for a flash the two different times merged and melted where they had been sitting into slag.

* * * * * * *

Donna looked up from her desk just as a feeling of nausea swept through her. It felt as if something had not only snapped but also twisted and pulled within her mind and on her senses. The other administrator looked up just as an alarm started going off, and then it stopped. "What the hell was that?" he asked, puzzled. "We just had an implosion alarm and then it stopped."

"Where was it?"

"The Director's office... Mr. Harkness' office."

* * * * * * *

Jack stared in shock at the remains of his desk.

"Holy shit, Doctor," he breathed. "Had we been still sitting there..."

"Yes, we'd be quite dead. Unfortunately for me, quite permanently too."

Jack breathed again and then said, "Wait... permanently?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Hard to regenerate when you have nothing left to regenerate from."

* * * * * * * *

  
**ACT FOUR**  


* * * * * * * *

In the meeting sat the top scientists of the base, including Dr. Riley, as well as the Doctor, Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones. Dr. Riley sat back from the others, and as far away from the Time Lords as he could get. The Doctor could feel the dislike from him radiating towards her, Donna and Jenny.

Jack leaned on the table. "Less than half an hour ago the Doctor and I were nearly burned to death in a lava flow that opened up in my office. Now, I don't care how you feel about the Doctor's theory about the Temporal Overlap." This was pointed towards Dr. Riley, who was paying more attention all of a sudden. "But this is now critical and threatening the safety of the personnel here."

"So, what are you suggesting?" asked one of the scientists. "We leave?"

"All non-mission critical personnel will be evacuated," answered Ianto. "That means we will be down to a skeleton crew with only department heads and your direct assistants present. When, and if, we deem it safe for their return we will call people back." People grumbled at this. "Now, think of it as a paid vacation. Your livelihoods will not be affected. Unfortunately, if you have sensitive experiments that require a watchful eye those may be lost. You can start these on your return, but no classified information or property will be permitted to leave."

The Doctor could tell there was going to be some resistance to this and she was right. Immediately upon Ianto finishing the room was silent. The Doctor had heard of the cliche 'hearing a pin drop' but had never believed a room could be that quiet. However... she'd just been proven wrong.

Seconds later, the room was the complete opposite. "You can't!"

"...But our projects!"

"Enough!" yelled Ianto. "That's the final decision. There is no democratic vote here -- we gave you far more than was legally necessary. You have twenty four hours to wrap up any experiments and projects and pack them up for an extended vacation, and that is final. You have work to do, get to it."

With that the room emptied, except for a few. One of those was Dr. Riley. "I trust that I'm one of those mission critical department heads, Mr. Jones."

"You're certainly one of the most classified. We are currently waiting on confirmation of whether you are staying or going, so whatever you have running I suggest preparing it like you won't be here for awhile," answered Ianto. "Just in case."

"Of course," said Dr. Riley. "Doctor, I certainly hope your close call hasn't rattled you."

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow. "Nothing I can't handle. I am surprised -- does this you believe me now?"

"It still seems very farfetched, but is difficult to deny the evidence presented. I am a scientist. I deal with realities, not fantasies. However, as I said... if evidence is there then there is no option but to entertain the hypothesis that perhaps something unexpected has cropped up," he answered, inclining his head as he did so. "It appears, however, I have much work to do just in case."

With that the man left. The Doctor sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose. But before she could get a definite feel the scent was gone. Jack leaned in close. "What is it?"

"It may be nothing, but with the way things have been going it could have been something."

"Are you going to fill us in?" asked Ianto, lightly sardonically.

"Someone on this base is researching Time, specifically the manipulation of it. They are fooling around with something that is particularly dangerous."

"Like playing with time isn't," remarked Jack.

"Beyond the basics of travel, Jack. I'm not sure what exactly... all I picked up was a very subtle scent in the air that only comes from a particular form of radiation that can only come from temporal research of any kind," answered the Doctor. "If they are being reckless, then that would account for the overlap. They aren't shielding it from bleeding past their lab, and that concerns me. If this is the bleed out, what is going on within the lab?"

"There is an area that is classified enough to hide something like that," suggested Ianto uneasily.

"Who oversees it?" asked Jack.

"Dr. Riley."

* * * * * * *

Dr. Riley was already mid conversation when he heard the voices outside of his office. "What is it?" asked the voice on the other end.

"She's here," answered Dr. Riley.

"You have already reported..."

"... No, I mean she's in the lab itself!" He had to cut the connection as Ianto Jones and the Doctor walked into his office with his very apologetic assistant just behind them. "Doctor, Mr. Jones. I must say this is unexpected, not to mention highly irregular. You do realize the level of classification on this?"

"I am quite familiar with how secret or classified this area is, Dr. Riley, however, we believe that your lab is the source of the temporal overlap issue. Just what are you researching here?" asked Ianto.

"As you can see... and I have to admit I find this amusing... that we are by no means researching that. I have no idea what a temporal lab would even look like, but I am sure it has little to do with the organic chemistry lab that beyond that I cannot tell you... it's classified. Have you checked the other project managers?" asked Dr. Riley.

"We didn't have to," answered the Doctor. "The minute I walked in here I could tell that your 'organic chemistry' is temporal in nature. I can feel it, smell it and even taste it in the air. I don't know exactly what it is you are doing in here, but the problems with the base are definitely stemming from your lab..."

The computer terminal chimed at that moment, and Dr. Riley leaned over to mute it. However, it was not fast enough for a clear question to be asked. "Dr. Quincy, I do not appreciate being cut off mid sentence."

"Who is Dr. Quincy?" asked the Doctor, loud enough and clear enough to be heard by the other person.

" _Rhachon le_ Quincy! _Natyë!_ " came the response.

The Doctor stepped back at the sound of her own language, and Dr. Riley – who appeared to actually be named Dr. Quincy – was equally surprised at the shaken sound of his contact. The Doctor asked, quietly, and in that tone that Jack had come to associate with her grandfather and the Oncoming Storm, " _Iston le?_ "

But the connection had already been lost. The Doctor turned on Quincy. "What the hell have you done?" she demanded sharply.

"I am trying to bring humanity to the next step in finding the stars, as is our due. Don't think your Time Lord friends will stop us either!" exclaimed Quincy.

"Who the hell do you think was on the other end of that line? What language was that?" asked the Doctor. " _Mine_. Those were other Time Lords, at least another one, and the pronoun they used for me was for kindred! You were working for them anyway!"

For a long moment Quincy was quiet. "Damn you aliens to hell."

"It may be you who damned us all," said the Doctor. "Unless you tell me right now what the hell you have been doing here to the very last detail so I can fix it and save your sorry ass."

* * * * * * *

Donna was on her way to the administrative office, as requested by the Doctor, when the bulkhead doors slammed shut in front of her. She could see Jason, the man that had greeted them, on the other side. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she ran up to the doors and pounded them, noticing that he was doing the same on the other side. They couldn't hear each other but she could make out what he was saying. "Help me!" he cried out.

She tried to find the manual override on the door controls just as there was this heavy sound of something she couldn't put her finger on. She looked up and saw that the inside of the office was now submerged with thousands of pressure. Override or no, to open the doors would kill everyone.

Looking through the window, she swallowed heavily as she saw the lifeless body of the young man that had helped them so much. Jason was charred on one side of his body as if burnt, and the office looked as if something hot had sliced through the wall and ceiling with a hot poker.

 _Oh God, no_... she projected telepathically while she gasped as she tried to get her breathing under control.

A gentle mental query was returned by the Doctor, and she showed the Doctor what she was seeing. She could feel the grimness in response, as well as the deep sorrow at the unnecessary loss of life.

* * * * * * *

"Jack, we're already a bit late," said the Doctor as she backed off in disgust from Quincy. "Thanks to this baka we have our first human casualty."

"Who?" asked Ianto.

"Jason Lancaster; the overworked fellow in your administrative office," answered the Doctor, and then she turned on Quincy. "See what you have wrought in your recklessness – loss of life. And not alien... human. How many more will die before you see reason, Quincy? Tell me exactly what I need to know right now so I can save what's left of this base."

"It's not like you can stop it. The real research is done out there... under thousands of atmospheric pressures. Only robotic drones can do anything... and those were in the wing that collapsed. The only other way to control it is by talking to my superiors," he answered.

"What wing?" asked Jack. "There's been no other implosions but for my office and the administrative office."

Quincy picked up a remote control. "This one!" he cried as he pushed down on the controls.

Jack tackled him, but it was too late. With a sickening crunch, Quincy landed with his neck at an awkward angle. Jack got up, paling as he realized what he had done. He grabbed the remote control and threw it at the Doctor. "Do something Doc, tell me you can salvage this!"

Ianto looked back from his hurried conversation and up from the computer he had commandeered. "He collapsed the loading and debarking bays. Not only are our stores gone, but so is every single way to escape this place. He just killed everyone in those bays, Jack. All those people we were sending away for their safety..."

"The wing the TARDIS is in, is it still intact?" asked the Doctor.

"For now, yes, but we're getting readings all over the base that the guyot is becoming unstable. We're a deathtrap – he caused the volcano right under our feet to be right under our feet and the geothermal activity is off the charts. If we don't get the hell out of here right now it will blow with us in it," supplied one of the assistants.

"How did you know that?" asked Ianto, suspiciously.

"My name is Dr. Kristine Wither... I'm a geophysicist and marine geologist. I was brought onto his little crazy project to watch for geological anomalies. I obviously wasn't expecting any – but when they started to appear it was my job to report them. I also kept an eye on anything my team members were asked to watch. One of those things was the sudden appearance of what one of my more temporal colleagues excitedly called a 'TARDIS' in the East Wing," she answered. "I can help you... I know where all his little devices were buried. However, the robots that we used to set them up around the guyot were all destroyed when he blew out the storage bay."

"Dr. Wither, you're my new favourite person on this base," said Ianto as he grasped the woman's shoulders. "Now... oh shit."

"What's up?" asked Jack.

"There is a way but no one could survive it," mused Ianto. "There is an experimental device... a personal armour... that was being tested here by the US Navy. It's a DSV, only it's a suit. They were trying to find the maximum depth that it would operate at and this was the only base that suited their need."

"Where was this suit?" asked Jack.

"Opposite end of what was imploded, away from Torchwood and the civilians. The only reason I know about is that my mission here was to serve as Base Manager," answered Ianto. "The only problem is that while the suit can withstand the pressures, they haven't been able to find a person that can."

"I can do it," offered the Doctor.

Jack turned to her. "What? No way!"

"Who else can? I have all the scientific knowledge to know what I'm doing or at least know what Dr. Wither is talking about if I don't, and I'm not human. My tolerances are much better than any of you." The Doctor took a breath. "No Jack, while you have a certain advantage it won't serve us here. You don't have that knowledge. Your history is great... but not that. Donna is fantastic, and like me physically, but she also doesn't have the science base. Neither does Jenny yet. No, the only person for this job is me."

* * * * * * *

Ianto watched as the very reluctant US Navy personnel strapped the Doctor into their suit. "The only reason we're allowing this, son, is because she can save our lives," reiterated the Marine. "And she was once with UNIT, so we know she can keep classified information just that."

"I'll also help you," said the Doctor. "I can also give you some feedback on how this torture chamber performs in a real test."

"That'd be the other reason we're allowing this, Doctor. Godspeed," added the Marine as the helmet was sealed.

With two sharp raps on the helmet, the US personnel saluted her and then she walked into the airlock. Ianto, Donna, Jack and Jenny followed the Navy officer into the mission control room for the suit, which consisted of a large flat screen TV monitor and a laptop. The scientist put on his headset and loaded the monitoring equipment. "Okay, Doctor. So far you're green across the board."

"The air is a little stale, but I'll live," came the Doctor's voice.

"Closing the inner door," stated the scientist.

"What do I call you?" asked the Doctor.

"Sorry, ma'am?" he asked in confusion.

"She means your name," said Donna.

"Oh, it's Tim. McGee. Timothy McGee, but people usually just call me Tim."

"Well, Tim. Let's hope this suit of yours works as promised."

"Inner door is closed, sir," came one of the Marine's voices from across the radio. "Flooding airlock."

The water from outside began to fill the airlock. "It supposed to be this chilly?" asked the Doctor.

"The water is from the ocean, ma'am," answered Tim. "Sorry, there's not much I can do about it. I will put a note saying that the suit could use environmental controls for working comfort in colder climes."

"That'd be good," answered the Doctor, as the water reached the waist of the suit. "Things are still green on my end, although I'm reading that the water temp is affecting the one servo in the knee."

"Still green on our end, reading the same as you."

Jack watched helplessly, heart in his mouth as the water enveloped the head of her suit and then the chamber was completely full. "Doctor, the airlock is equalized with the outside... how are things in the suit?"

"Air tastes a little funny, but I'll live."

"Opening outer door," came the same Marine's voice.

* * * * * * *

The Doctor watched as the door cycled open and then there was nothing, except for the suit, between her and the inky dark of the deep ocean of Earth. While she had been on spacewalks in her life, there was nothing quite like the deep of the water. It was so much more still than space.

"Here's goes nothing," she remarked and took her first step out of the base, and then had to hang on for dear life as the cross current almost dragged her the rest of the way from the airlock. "Whoa... don't get that in space."

"Are you all right Doctor?" came Jack's voice.

"Yeah, just encountered my first difference from a spacewalk -- there is a nasty current out here."

She regained her equilibrium and stepped all the way out, bracing against the current as she did so. She looked up and around and said, "Wow, if you ever have the opportunity to see out here you really need to. It's spectacular."

"You're still green to go," said Tim. "Godspeed Doctor."

With that the Doctor picked her way across the desert like ocean bottom to the ledge. "Reaching the first marker," she said as she approached the very edge a bit nervously. "I found where it slid down slightly... shining my light down the ledge." She did so to look for the first of the devices. "There it is. I'm climbing down to it now."

She could sense the apprehension from everyone as she momentarily disappeared from sight. She felt rather nervous. One slip and she would tumble head over heels down the sea mount and past even Gallifreyan Time Lord tolerances There'd be no regenerating from that; she'd simply be crushed.

With a few deft manoeuvres she shut down the first of three markers and climbed back up into view with a sigh of relief. "One down, two to go."

"Still reading green across the board... and plenty of data rolling in. How are you feeling?" asked Tim.

"I am getting a slight headache, but nothing I can't handle. Air still tastes a bit funny and the knee is stiff. Oh, and I'm freezing," she groused.

* * * * * * *

"She sounds a bit off," pointed out Jack.

"It's the air mixture and the atmospheric pressures," answered Dr. Wither. "She is probably feeling a bit off. If she were human, she would be feeling quite punch drunk right now. As it is, she probably doesn't feel right."

Jenny looked up in concern. "She'll be all right, won't she?"

"Yes, of course... once she comes back in and into the better air and up out of the deeper and heavier pressures, she'll start feeling more herself."

* * * * * * *

The last marker, and the Doctor could admit to herself that she wasn't feeling right at all. The base didn't seem like it was that much higher than the edges, but the reality was that it was actually sitting around twenty five to fifty feet into a different pressure zone that what she was currently walking around in... not to mention every so often she had to climb down further.

She looked over the edge and said, "Houston, we have a problem."

"What's the matter?" asked Tim.

"The last marker device is down the edge by about a hundred feet or so," answered the Doctor, and she muttered the last to herself. "I think."

"What was that last bit, I didn't catch it."

"It's nothing, I'm fine."

"Do you think you can get to it?" asked Jack.

"Honestly, I have no choice or we're all dead, aren't we," she retorted a bit sharply. "Sorry, didn't mean that. I can get to it."

 _What the hell is wrong with me?_ she wondered. _I'm getting snappish. Must be the suit._

She stumbled, and fell forward to all fours in the dirt. "Whoa."

"Holy shit, are you okay?" asked Jack.

"The suit is still in the green," came Tim's voice. "Doctor, are you all right?"

For a moment she fought to get the dizziness she had been feeling under control, and the throbbing behind her eyes to subside. Finally she answered, "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Can't wait to get out of this suit."

"Doctor, you've been in it three times as long as our divers. Are you sure you don't want to come back in?" asked Tim.

"Quite, let's get this done."

She secured herself using a self tapping pinion into the rock and rappelled down to the marker. When she got there she found she now could see two that sometimes also happened to look like three. She blinked her eyes furiously and the images coalesced into one solid object. It felt as if it took three times as long to shut this one down as the others.

When it finally went dark, some of the discomfort subsided and she breathed a sigh of relief. "That's the last one," she said. "The temporal overlap is fading, I can feel it."

The tie shifted and she dropped another ten feet. She used the hands of her suit to stop her descent. "Doctor, something just happened! You just dropped ten feet."

"So I noticed," she answered a bit shrilly in alarm. "I'm climbing back up."

She reset another pinion, climbed up, and using basic climbing techniques to scale a rock wall walked herself up slowly. When she settled herself back on the flat, she saw that what she had thought had been a good, solid, first pinion was actually now quite loose.

With a slow plodding walk against the current, she made her way back into the airlock, never more happy to hear the words, "Closing outer doors."

Things went black after that.

* * * * * * *

Jack sat by the Doctor's bed until her eyes flickered open and she groaned herself back into wakefulness. "What the hell?" she asked. "I feel like have a hangover from hell."

"That's one way to describe it," Jack laughed, but it sounded forced. "You passed out from oxygen poisoning in the airlock. Whatever a Time Lord's tolerance is, you went past it. You were likely quite drunk on your own air and you're lucky you're not dead."

"The base?"

"Stable. No signs of temporal overlap. Torchwood is still cleaning up. All those dead..." he trailed off. "But we're all alive thanks to you."

"Jack..." the Doctor started, thoughtfully. "Those people Quincy were in contact with... the ones that almost saw this base destroyed utterly... those were Time Lords."

"I know," answered Jack. "Do you think you'll be able to find them?"

The Doctor looked over at the wall. "I don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS  
>  _Rhachon le Quincy!_ Curse you Quincy! (Gallifreyan)  
>  _Natyë!_ It's you! (Gallifreyan, in the kindred/colleague sense... pronoun specific to other Time Lords or Gallifreyans only, not for outsiders or non-Gallifreyan)  
>  _Iston le?_ Do I know you? (Gallifreyan, not in the familiar at all)
> 
>  _Baka_ \- Idiot (Japanese)
> 
> * _I don't own the Sindarin/Quenya being used as Gallifreyan. That belongs to Tolkien_...


	5. The Inquisitor (Part One)

The sea base was still a disaster, albeit a stable one.  Subs from both the US and Britain seemed to hover like helicopters in the water, most just barely viable through the dark murk.  The Doctor gazed up through one of the many large viewing windows into towards the surface.  Jack stepped up beside her and looked up as well.  He could hardly see anything through the murk but he was willing to believe that the Time Lord could probably see the traces of the sun filtering through the water like the Aurora Borealis.  
  
Jack finally tore his eyes away from the water and turned to look at the Doctor.  Sometimes it was so easy to forget that there was two things to know about her.  First, that she was not simply her grandfather regenerated into female form but in fact her own person.  Second... that she wasn't human at all but both raised to a culture that was so, so alien from his own and that she was indeed just that – an alien.  Jack didn't care; he was from a time and place where alien was not necessarily that strange a thing to see and he knew just how alien another alien could end up being.  
  
But to see an alien that, except for some very interesting internal workings, looked so very human was the most unnerving part.  
  
"So, I imagine that you will be back out there soon," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the glass.  
  
"Yes," she answered simply as she turned to look at him.  "Thank you for being here."  
  
Jack swallowed.  "No, thank you for being here.  I can only imagine what would have happened if you weren't."  
  
"As usual, the TARDIS takes me where I need to be," she mused.  
  
"That so?" he asked.  "Doctor... Arkytior... I have missed you more than you can imagine, but at the same time I get that I can't expect the same from you as I can from Ianto.  But, I'm not exactly... well..."  
  
The Doctor turned to face Jack completely as he looked down uncomfortably.  "I get what you're trying to say, Jack.  And I understand it.  When you are ready I will still be waiting.  We have that time.  Ianto does not."  
  
He blew out a breath.  "Was it always this way with you?"  
  
"Yes."  The Doctor sighed and his memories, those that she sometimes could access with perfect clarity, showed her the numerous times he had so wanted to attach himself to someone but the knowledge that he couldn't...  "And for him as well.  I think it was the biggest reason that, although he wanted to, he couldn't let himself say those three little words to Sarah, or even Rose... and others."  
  
Jack nodded.  "I'm beginning to see that." He frowned.  "The longer my life stretches on."  
  
"It is an unnerving part of being so long lived, Jack.  And I wish I could say it gets easier.  I know from experience.  My first love was a human man, and our time was cut so very short."  
  
"He got old?" asked Jack.  
  
"Well, he was getting old, but no.  There were complications... it was after an invasion of Daleks and the Earth was rebuilding.  And then I found a forgotten warehouse where there were some equally forgotten, and sleeping, Daleks waiting for another try at invasion.  And I wasn't the only one..." She trailed off.  "It's strange.  I have my grandfather's memories of this other Time Lord and how they constantly butted heads even before the Master ever stepped into my life."  
  
Jack felt his stomach drop out.  "Who did you say?"  
  
"You know him?" she asked, then frowned as a shadow crossed over her face.  "Oh.  Jack, I am so sorry."  
  
He shook his head.  "Forget that, I want to hear how you know him."  
  
"It's long, and very complicated.  Now that I have my grandfather's memories I know that my departure from Gallifrey had something to do with him, before he ever called himself the Master, and that my grandfather's 'history' with him started there even if he didn't realize it."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I was betrothed to him through and arrangement with my father and his family.  They felt I would be a 'calming' influence on his overly obvious ambitions and failings, that perhaps the need to think of a Bond-mate would teach him subtlety if nothing else."  
  
"And your grandfather didn't approve."  
  
The Doctor laughed.  "Most definitely not.  He knew the Master back when they were both boys in school and grew up with him.  At one point they were like brothers, but he recognized that there was something not quite right and didn't want to expose me to him in such a manner.  He was overruled by our Kithriarch at the time.  So, thanks to Innocet and Autumn, we left with Autumn's TARDIS and were long gone before anyone noticed our absence from Gallifrey."  
  
Jack was silent as he digested this.  "And so he chased after you?"  
  
"No, I don't think so.  I think he chased after grandfather and when he realized that I had left the TARDIS for parts unknown before he had caught up with us, I think that was when he began to call himself the Master and became my grandfathers worst enemy.  Before then, I think he tried to still talk reasonably with my grandfather, but he never succeeded in swaying him.  By then my grandfather had regenerated for the first time and been years, perhaps a century or so, in his second regeneration.  My grandfather did the only thing he could do when he recognized the full extent of his friend's problems... he called the other Time Lords for help and in so doing pretty much turned himself in for the theft of the TARDIS and my kidnapping."  She paused, the memories from her grandfather sketchy but clear in one detail.  "The other Time Lords never even tried my grandfather.  They simply executed that incarnation, wiped his companions memories of ever have travelled with him, disabled his TARDIS... and then exiled him to 70's Earth without caring if he had friends there or not.  I think they hoped he would be captured by less than understanding 'authorities' and spend the rest of his probably short life in their tender mercies."  
  
Jack felt sick, knowing one particular Earth authority would tried to do just that in the seventies, and thankfully never succeeded.  "But he had friends with UNIT."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"You never answered what happened with your husband."  
  
"No, I did not," she answered lightly.  "And perhaps I will one day, but not now.  Suffice it to say that I understand what you are going through with Ianto, and will one day go through with Ianto."  
  
He pulled her into a hug and when they pulled apart he asked, "Will I ever see you again?"  
  
She looked past him, and normally when someone looked past a person it was because they no longer were listening.  This was the case but he realized here that it was something else entirely.  She was looking into Time itself to look at their personal time lines.  
  
The Doctor looked at him sadly, but only said, "When you are ready... and when you need me... _**I** will be there_."  
  
With that she walked away and moments later he heard the sound of the TARDIS dematerializing.  
  


* * * * * *

  
The trip was short and this even surprised the Doctor.  It was over almost as soon as she put a hand on the console and the three women could only look at each other in puzzlement.  "Is everything all right with the TARDIS?" asked Jenny.  
  
"Well, yes," answered the Doctor as she checked everything over.  "Everything appears to be in order... other than the extraordinarily short trip."  
  
"So where are we?" asked Donna.  
  
The Doctor checked over things.  "Still on Earth, but not necessarily in the same time frame and the TARDIS is being rather insistent that we remain."  
  
"So... we need to be here?" asked Donna, and the Doctor could also see Jenny perk up at the news.  
  
"It appears so."  
  
She opened the doors and the first thing that hit them was the smell and the noise.  The Doctor looked outside and said, "Spain.  Middle Ages."  
  
Jenny stepped out and around her, looking around at the architecture of the town.  "It's beautiful."  
  
The three were startled out of their admiration by screams, shouts and the sound of what almost sounded like battle.  Before the Doctor could say or do anything Jenny was running down the street.  Moments later, Donna ran after her while the Doctor locked the TARDIS and then was running after the both of them.  
  
Turning the corner, she looked on with horror with the scene in the town square.  Soldiers, obviously Conquistadors, were dragging a screaming young woman to a stake in the middle of a pile of wood and tinder.  Donna had also stopped short, if a bit further into the square.  
  
However, Jenny had no way of knowing what was going on.  All she saw was a possibly innocent young woman about to be subjected to a horrific and painful death... and Jenny was going to stop it.  
  
She jumped up to the stake, cut the young woman free, and kicked away the torch with a well executed karate kick, and the neatly back flipped back to the ground.  With the attention of the crowd now on Jenny, the other young woman slipped away and made her escape.  
  
Jenny turned to face the angry mob and was immediately surrounded by soldiers and raging townsfolk.  
  
There was no way for the Doctor to save her from what came next.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
 **ACT ONE**  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
Jenny looked around at the angry faces that surrounded her, but did not give ground.  Picking up a piece of wood that had been in the pile to be burned, she waved it around like a spear to keep the mob at bay.  "Get away from me!" she shouted.  "Back!  I'll only warn you once!"  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the priest.  "Why would you interrupt just punishment set about by the Church and therefore from God Himself?"  
  
"If God wanted a slaughter, He would have done so Himself, not sent half-baked misguided goons to do it for Him," retorted Jenny.  "Could you read the woman's mind to be sure of her guilt... or was it supposition and accused by some nebulous and jealous person who may have only wanted a rival out of the way?"  
  
With this, there was a gasp throughout the crowd.  The priest appeared to consider this.  "My fellow Spaniards, lay down your weapons... we shall let the courts decide her guild or innocence."  At first, the townsfolk didn't appear to agree, but they mostly stood around, looking at each other and him in vague confusion.  "Now, now, don't be that way.  She wasn't here for the condemned's trial... she is misguided, but perhaps acting from a deep seated desire for justice herself... should we judge that here and now or do so sensibly?"  
  
Finally, but very slowly, the townsfolk backed away.  Jenny could still the wariness and sometimes outright hostility in their faces.  More surprising was the priest's willingness to listen instead of throwing her on the fire.  The priest stepped forward, his hand out.  "Now, we proved our willingness to reason... what of you, young lady?"  
  
Jenny threw down the stick and the soldiers immediately stepped forward, but the priest held up a hand.  "No!  No... she is also being reasonable.  Let us be the same.  I shall take her under my care.  I suspect she has only the fault of a misguided but kind heart, but not actual wilful heresy.  This is, while serious, forgivable and I believe quite reversible.  Don't you think so, child?"  
  
She didn't know what the priest was playing at, but she could see that he was at least trying to not turn this into a bloodbath.  He could have had her killed right there and then, but chose not to.  There would be no purpose in doing it later.  In fact, he might have even lost a bit of face in not allowing the townsfolk to rip her to shreds and throw her on that pile of wood instead of the other woman.  She didn't trust him, but could recognize logic when she saw it.  "I can be reasonable," she answered warily.  
  
"Besides, look at her clothes!  Clearly some person is responsible not only for her current behaviour but for a gross lack of proper care.  This clearly falls under the care of the Holy Church and I shall take personal responsibility for correcting this clear lack of proper parenting."  
  
Jenny looked up to the Doctor.  _Any help here?_  
  
The Doctor shook her head.  _He has nothing to gain by killing you later.  It is strange that he didn't have you killed already_...  
  
 _I gathered that_ , answered Jenny.  
  
 _Go with him.  Donna and I will follow behind and take note of where you are and if we need to I will use the TARDIS herself to rescue you.  However, there is nothing I can do right now while there is so many around.  That would be too noticeable_.  There was a sigh here.  _Do try to not cause him to actually put you through a trial_...  
  
With that Jenny turned to the priest.  "I accept your offer, Father."  
  
The priest smiled widely, although he also looked around.  The Doctor saw him look directly at Donna and frown.  Donna looked straight back at him, meeting him in the eyes.  The priest appeared quizzical, but when he looked at the Doctor the colour seemed to drain from his face.  The Doctor didn't recall meeting the man, but it was evident that he had either met her or seen her someplace else.  He quickly crossed himself at the sight, and then swiftly took Jenny in hand and guided her away.  
  
"Donna... follow them," said the Doctor.  
  
"Yeah..." said Donna, looking with uncertainty to the Doctor.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Remembering another time... another place... little town called Pompeii."  
  
The Doctor frowned.  "I am too."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
The young woman was not even out of her teens and already she had been given the closest brush with death that she had ever been given.  Even her brother's failure at proper care even though their father's will had clearly stated that she and her mother were to be given such care had been a day in church compared to what had nearly transpired.  
  
She checked behind her once more and sighed with relief.  That strange blonde girl had managed to steal away the attention long enough for her to slip away unnoticed.  
  
Finally she returned to the camp spot and the others turned around in shock.  With relief, she noted that they were armed and were on their way to find her anyway.  
  
"Blessed virgin Mary, Ysabel, we were told that they had brought you out into the open!" cried one of the men.  
  
"I was... and while I know you would have done all in your power, you would have been too late," she answered.  
  
"Then how?" asked another.  
  
Ysabel shook her head, plucking bits of wood from her hair.  "A stranger freed me... she leapt into the middle of the soldiers, and cut me free.  She fought them off long enough for me to escape.  While I fear for our mission, I fear more for her life now that she has seen to my freedom."  
  
"Ysabel... does she know you?" asked the leader again.  
  
"I do not think so... she was not familiar to me.  I do not think I was familiar to her either."  
  
"The Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways..." mused the leader.  "If not for this stranger, we would have, without a doubt, arrived too late.  I do think the Lord sent us one of his fair ones to guard you, for you are definitely blessed."  
  
"No, not blessed.  Merely lucky," answered Ysabel.  "And I think her human like us, not angel nor devil.  However I fear how this foreign Inquisitor will regard her, given the circumstances.  If it is not too much I desire her freedom and her addition to my retinue, Captain."  
  
"It will be done, your Highness."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Donna regarded the Doctor as they went through the extensive wardrobe in the TARDIS.  "So, what now?" she asked.  
  
"I'm not sure."  The Doctor picked up a dress, and smiled wistfully remembering a time so long ago when she had met Marco Polo.  Unfortunately, the dress wouldn't do in this part of the world.  "But I do agree with you in that we cannot leave her behind."  
  
Donna looked relieved.  "So, you have a plan?"  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"Then what are we doing?" asked Donna, her voice rising and she threw a dress aside.  "While we're in here playing dress up they could be torturing her... she could be nearly regenerating.  And heaven only knows what will happen then!"  
  
"This is, if I'm not mistaken, right before the Spanish Inquisition.  The basic building blocks are there, but it is not fully in force.  That will not be for a few months to a few years.  After Queen Isabella marries Ferdinand and actually becomes Queen of Spain... then the Spanish Inquisition will be in full force.  However, unlike the medieval Inquisition... while the Spanish was known for some serious instances of inhumanity... they were more likely to believe in life imprisonment and property seizure.  Forced conversion to Catholicism, some obtained with torture, yes... but again, not like that of the medieval inquisition.  Still no walk in the park, however, I admit that," explained the Doctor, and she held up her hand to forestall another string of questioning from Donna.  "I'm not saying that we're leaving her there.  The mere possibility of torture, even if not as inhumane as the earlier inquisition, is still not sitting well with me and I want her out of there as soon as we can get her out of there.  However, we aren't going to do her any good if we all end up in the same prison.  We need to... mix in... and two travelling women are just rare enough to attract the wrong kind of attention."  
  
"So, we're looking for a way to 'mix in'?"  
  
"Precisely."  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
 **ACT TWO**  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
It had been agreed that a ginger Spanish noble would be rather unusual, and for an English Noblewoman even more so.  Since the Doctor looked Hispanic in her current incarnation, it made far more sense for the Doctor to be a noblewoman and Donna to be her lady in waiting.  When the Doctor finally stepped out of the wardrobe room and into the mirrored section, Donna had to quell a sigh at the incredible rust red gown in rich brocades.  It was accurate but also so very beautiful.  The Doctor's hair had been swept up and coiled into proper braids and then into one complex twist pinned with gold pins just above the back of her neck.  She had allow just the proper amount of loose curls to hang down on either side of her face.  
  
Donna held her hands to her lips and whispered, "You look amazing, Doctor."  
  
The Doctor smiled a small, subtle smile.  "Thank you, Donna.  You look amazing as well."  
  
Donna looked in the mirror.  While what she was wearing couldn't hold the proverbial candle to what the Doctor was wearing, she wore a similar – only not as ornate -- gown based on the same style as the Doctor's gown but not near as rich.  It still fit the bill as a lady in waiting or the medieval equivalent of the 'personal assistant' to a rich, and likely powerful, noblewoman.  
  
Mere hours later, with the proper necessities to mix into the medieval Spain in hand, the Doctor and Donna walked out of the TARDIS and made their way into the town.  
  
The Doctor's explanation for why she was there and how indeed she had come to find herself there was that she had been travelling with another noble lord (conveniently all the way across Spain on the other side of the country and therefore more conveniently unable to be questioned about their less than truthful backgrounds) when she had fallen under the weather in the unexpectedly warm weather and pleaded to remain with her lady in waiting to recover in the small, but well appointed, town.  When he eventually returned later that year, she would again meet with him and go back home.  Again 'home' was conveniently too far in the other direction for anyone to check easily.  
  
The hope was that by the time anyone thought to check up on their story, or were able to, Jenny would have been freed and they would be on their way.  Otherwise, things would get far more complicated than they needed to be.  
  
The town was a bit larger than a village and had stone buildings that were over a story tall and organized streets, but no more than that.  It had no walls and was not a bustling city.  From the look of things it was simply a well appointed town that perhaps was a small trading hub or stop along a busy highway.  Donna sighed at the beauty and sleepy pace of it.  "It's beautiful."  
  
"It is," agreed the Doctor.  "Were we here for anything else, it would be a lovely stopping spot for some idle time.  We need to find Jenny, but, seeing as direct questioning would likely get us arrested or be suspicious... let's find the market and listen to what the people say."  
  
"In other words shop and gossip," pointed out Donna, amused but still somber.  
  
"Quite."  
  
They made their way to the central market and wandered around.  Donna was repulsed by some of what she saw, and then she stopped.  "Milady," she murmured, then louder when she failed to get the Doctor's attention.  "My Lady!"  
  
The Doctor followed her gaze and smiled at Donna's surprise.  _A little more advanced than you thought?  
_  
 _What is it?_ came Donna's telepathic query.  
  
"Excuse me, kind sir, my handmaiden is from a very provincial place and has not seen that which keeps your wares fresh.  Could you show us how it works?" asked the Doctor as she walked up to the merchant keeper.  
  
He made a small bow.  "Of course, my Lady.  It is something we have used for generations... I am surprised your handmaiden has not seen it.  You simply put an earthen pot inside another.  Simple sand is put between, and you keep the sand wet with simply water.  A clean cloth, also wet, is put over the opening.  What is inside the smaller pot is kept cool within, keeping fresh herbs and vegetables fresher.  Sometimes even meat, but I still prefer having it salted and dried if kept for any length of time... or simply fresh."  
  
This set off a warning bell in the Doctor's head.  She had seen such a system used before, but not here and certainly not in this time period.  Granted, it was a relatively simple technology and entirely possible given the trade routes that it was plausible that the later discovery of the Zeer pot in Donna's time period by an African scientist with a speciality in permaculture had been based upon this more ancient version, but things didn't seem to add up.  
  
Firstly, the Spanish Inquisition was not supposed to properly start until after Isabella took the throne in 1480.  It was still only 1478, and Isabella's brother was still on the throne with Isabella little more than a prisoner in her own life.  
  
However, all signs pointed to the fact that things were happening a touch too soon.  Admittedly, history dates could be fuzzy on certain details but on rather large and historically fixed points?  
  
Never.  
  
The fact that formerly fixed points in this era were shifting was enough to give the Doctor pause.  
  
Donna was saying something, but the Doctor's sight was elsewhere.  Donna noticed the lack of attention and covered well.  "My Lady isn't feeling well... could we bother you with a shady spot to sit her down?" asked Donna.  
  
The stall-keeper moved aside and helped Donna guide the suddenly zoned out, and 'ill' Doctor into the cooler interior of the ramshackle stall.  "Please forgive the very modest means within my humble stall, milady, but... and this is no excuse... I did not expect that such a noble personage would require rest in it, but you are welcome to what I have," said the stall-keeper in a rush.  
  
"She'll be fine, she just has these little moments where everything gets to her and she requires rest," Donna reassured him.  "And your generous hospitality is all she requires, and you have given it with no thought to your own comfort.  Were some nobles so welcoming... they have much they could learn from you."  
  
"You are too kind!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide, but the delight was plain to see.  "I would give more, if I had it."  
  
"'He who has much but gives from his surplus gives less than he who has little but offers all that he has', so says our Lord and Saviour," came a voice from behind them, and Donna and the stall-keeper looked up in surprise.  
  
Donna was not surprised to note that, while it wasn't the same priest that had taken Jenny, it appeared to be the same brotherhood.  She released a breath she had been holding.  "If only others would take note of such wisdom," she said, and then turned to the stall-keeper  "But only a blessed few do."  
  
"Indeed," agreed the priest.  "And the Lord shall bless those who do, in the end.  Ah, but where are my manners.  My name is Brother Miguel of Saint Maria's church, a mere lay brother hoping to be called to that higher calling... eventually.  Until then I content myself to tend to the flock that is within this humble town that I heard such a Lady and her Maiden had come to.  I had to see for myself, wondering why one such as she would, but I can see... as I have heard... that her health is frail."  
  
Donna tried to keep up with his formal speech, and was thankful to the TARDIS for modernizing it to something she could understand.  She realized this with a start and suddenly remembered that she had not heard the infamous 'thees' and 'thous' as she had expected like she had read from her grandfather's particularly old King James bible and from Shakespeare in school.  "It is," she answered.  
  
"She has also recovered," came the Doctor's weary voice from between the stall-keeper and Donna.  "How long was it this time?"  
  
"Not long, milady, mere moments it seemed," answered the stall-keeper  "Begging your pardon, milady, I did not mean to be so forward."  
  
"In what?  Answering a question?  No, that was not forward and I thank you for your plainness.  It is a rare commodity these days," answered the Doctor, and Donna inwardly smiled.  
  
A Time Lord was naturally hardwired to act noble.  In reality, they were the upper nobility of their own culture so the act wasn't forced.  The Doctor simply had to stop quelling the natural inclination to act aristocratic and the ingrained training simply filled in the rest.  The Doctor was so convincing when it was required to act noble that most didn't question her, as the case was here.  
  
The stall-keeper only looked at the ground, but Donna could see the pleased smile on his face.  She looked up to the priest.  "No offense, mate, but could you please help with her?  She's a bit useless after she's had a spell."  
  
Donna didn't realize that she had allowed her natural way of speaking to slip until the priest and stall-keeper gave her a curious look.  "She is of Ireland, gentlemen, an immigrant to our fair lands.  However, she does raise a valid point," said the Doctor.  "I do feel rather light headed still, much as it pains me to admit it."  
  
This spurred the priest and the stall-keeper into action.  The priest called for a carriage, and the stall-keeper fanned her with a piece of thin wood.  The carriage arrived quickly and the priest and stall-keeper aided the Doctor into the enclosed space.  After she was made comfortable, Donna was given a hand in.  "Padre," came the Doctor's voice before the priest had a chance to walk away.  
  
"Oh no, my Lady, I am no father in the church. I am but a lay brother... a humble monk," he answered.  
  
"You speak?" asked Donna in surprise.  
  
"I have taken no vows of silence.  Did not see the need to do so twice in my life," he answered with a wink.  "I am simply vowed to do that which is far more difficult -- live a life of compassion and charity.  I wish I could say I was successful but the Lord knows I am not.  But I try... it is all we can do as mere mortals..."  
  
"Please, step up with us and guide the driver to our place of lodging," said the Doctor.  
  
"Where are you staying?" he asked.  
  
"The inn just inside of town, along the main road," answered Donna.  
  
"There?!  Oh heavens, I would have thought you would stay with the noble lord of the town!" he exclaimed in surprise.  "His manor may be modest, but it is far better lodging than that mercantile stopover."  
  
"We did not wish to be a nuisance," answered the Doctor.  "Especially since we have not had the pleasure of meeting the mayor yet."  
  
"Then I must insist we go there now.  His manor is much more capable of meeting your needs, especially with your frail health, my Lady," he said.  "Forgive me, that was out of turn."  
  
"But out of honest concern," admitted the Doctor with a sigh.  "Men of God are afforded more leniency than others by virtue of their calling.  We will take your advice and guidance."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
 **ACT THREE**  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor was not a pious woman by any means.  She had no issue with questions of faith, nor with an individual's religious beliefs, but she did have issue when those belief's encroached on others.  It took everything in her power to not burst out laughing every time she so seriously called on the Catholic's wisdom.  Not because he was Catholic, but simply because of the unquestioned faith in that the very human leaders of said religion had the greater public's best interests in mind when history had only proven that men were just that - fallible.  History had already proved that the Inquisitions were mere gloss to hide than men, desiring ever more power, had used such avenues to further it... and not their 'faith', no matter how fancy the facade.  
  
But the lay brother was a nice sort.  He was honest and genuine, as well as very compassionate.  
  
As as much as the Inquisitions were a horror in human history, the Spanish one had been tamer than most and, in the earlier parts, more grounded in reality than the Medieval or even the later ones.  
  
The carriage rolled to a stop outside a beautiful and well appointed manor house near the centre of town and the lay brother said, "I beg your pardon, Madam, but I must see to the proper introductions.  With your leave."  
  
He gave a slight inclination of his head and exited the carriage, closing it up after.  The driver's assistant accompanied him to the main doors where another, most likely a guard or a page, greeted them.  The Doctor and Donna could not hear what was being said, but the guard entered the estate with the lay brother waiting outside.  
  
A few moments later, a woman, who was dressed similarly to Donna came out.  The lay brother did not bow, but there was another short conversation at which point the young woman followed him to the carriage.  The lay brother stopped.  "My Lady, this is Senora De Ruis, the handmaiden of the Lady Senora Maria de la Porta, wife of the Lord Mayor Enrique de la Porta of Valladolid and the surrounding province."  
  
"I am honoured," said the Doctor as the door was opened and the driver assisted the Doctor to stand on the ground.  
  
Moments later, Donna was aided out and the three women regarded each other.  "My word, your handmaiden has beautiful hair!  Such a rare colour."  
  
The Doctor smiled.  "She does, doesn't she?  I certainly hope the two of you can become fast friends while we impose ourselves, very gratefully, upon the Lord Mayor's generous hospitality."  
  
"I am sure the Lord Mayor, as is his Lady, is more curious on why you have not done so sooner."  
  
"We did not feel it would be right to impose, especially since we only meant to pass through," answered the Doctor.  
  
"Well, let me show you to your rooms," said the handmaiden.  "Think nothing of the imposition."  
  
Before she was ushered into the estate, she turned to the lay brother and said, "Brother Miguel, thank you so much for your help in the market.  I am indebted to you."  
  
"Oh no, my Lady, I am only to happy to have helped.  Please do not think any more of the matter."  
  
"But I must."  The Doctor frowned.  "Surely this will not be the last we see of each other?"  
  
"Oh, likely not," answered Miguel vaguely.  "I will still be at the monastery, should you require me."  
  
"Require?" Donna smiled.  "More like simply want to see you."  
  
"Oh!" Miguel blushed.  
  
"Not in that way," said the Doctor, chiding Donna at the same time.  "Shame on you, teasing the lay brother like that."  
  
"Begging your pardon, my Lady.  I do not know what came over me.  I should perhaps spend more time in prayer at the chapel than I do at market," said Donna.  _Trust me, Doctor... I just had a flash of inspiration on how to find Jenny._  
  
 _I figured that._  
  
"Perhaps you should.  And perhaps as just desserts, it should be the lay brother that makes sure of your chaste arrival there... preferably soon."  
  
Miguel lit onto the idea, much as the pair had planned.  "Ah!  I think that would a suitable repayment for my services, since you are so determined to repay them... as unnecessary as it would have been.  Not to mention that again you give me a pleasure, not a chore."  
  
With that, he bade them farewell.  The handmaiden guided them into the estate.  Donna looked around in wonder at the architecture and arches in the garden.  "So beautiful."  
  
"The Lord Mayor will be pleased to hear it," same another woman's voice.  
  
They turned to look and the handmaiden curtsied.  Donna copied her seconds later, while the Doctor inclined her head.  "Senora de la Porta?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"I am, and you are?"  
  
"Senora Suzanna del..." The Doctor scrambled for a name, not sure what to call herself... and then inspiration struck.  "Ortega."  
  
"Ortega?" asked Maria, her eyebrows lifting.  "What brings such a high ranking member of our nobility to Valladolid?"  
  
"We were passing through, but I... ah... fell ill.  It is embarrassing to admit but my husband decided it for the best if I rested until I was well enough to travel again," answered the Doctor.  
  
"Oh dear!" exclaimed the handmaiden.  "Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Unfortunately, no," answered the Doctor.  
  
"My Lady collapsed in the market today.  If not for the kindness of Brother Miguel, we would not have found your house.  We were staying at an inn not far from the edge of the city," answered Donna.  
  
"Gracious!  It is fortunate that he did!" exclaimed Maria.  "Annette, please help me show our guests to their rooms so that our new friend can find her rest.  Have you any idea why you felt so ill so suddenly?  Has it been long since you have seen your husband?"  
  
"A little longer than for what I suspect you suspect, my friend," answered the Doctor with a smile.  
  
"Ah, but you can never be so sure of these things, can we?" teased Maria.  "Forgive my forwardness."  
  
"On the contrary, it is been too long since I had equal company, other than Donna," said the Doctor.  
  
"Donna?" asked Maria, and then she looked over to Donna, as if taking her measure for the first time.  "Ah, your lady in waiting.  Oh, such hair!  How did you come to possess such beautiful hair?"  
  
For what seemed the dozenth time, Donna found herself smiling over the attention paid to her ginger hair.  "A gift from a Scottish mother," she answered.  
  
"Ah!  Such stories you must have of that misted isle."  Maria sighed largely.  "I read so much about it and of the Queens.  They tell me the isle is no larger than one of our provinces, but she holds sway over so very much that I find myself so curious about it.  You are so lucky to get to travel so far abroad."  
  
"Thank you, my Lady, you are most kind," Donna bowed her head again.  
  
"No, please, call me Maria.  And this is my handmaiden, Annette... as you can guess from her name she hails from France.  Like you, she is my company when equal company is not there.  I hope we come to regard each other as friends, even if from a distance... but what is mail for, if not for letters, no?"  
  
"Indeed," agreed the Doctor.  "That is my hope as well."  
  
"When you are feeling more up to it, perhaps we can have a proper salon?" asked Annette.  "Oh, but it would be so wonderful to have a proper salon with other ladies of the city!"  
  
Maria smiled slightly and then she lifted her head.  "Ah, here are your rooms.  I hope you feel better for dinner tonight.  I will have our house chef fix something that has always nursed me back to health when I felt ill... a true "comfort food"... if you wish."  
  
"I would be honoured, if it isn't so much bother," answered the Doctor.  
  
"It is no bother, in fact, it is a favourite.  Very delicious.  Almost a treat, really," Maria laughed.  "I think that is why she makes it then.  Takes the bite away from being under the weather."  
  
Annette opened the doors and Maria ushered them in.  Donna stopped as her eyes swept over the room in awe.  "I hope it is to your standards?" she asked, mistaking Donna's wide-eyed look.  
  
"Oh my word, this is beautiful..." breathed Donna, turning to Maria.  "All this for a guest?"  
  
"You make it sound like I have given you something from the capitol!" she exclaimed, delighted that she had mistaken.  For a moment she had been sure that Lady Ortega's handmaiden had been aghast at what she seen, but was genuinely pleased that it met with their approval.  "But I am so happy that you like it."  
  
"The bed, the furniture... my word... was it made locally?" she asked.  
  
Maria looked over at Annette, who nodded.  "One of the artisans in town oversaw his journeymen in the making of this.  I believe the bed was one of their final exams.  I understand he passed."  
  
"It is masterfully made... I would have never guessed a journeyman made it," said the Doctor, running a hand along the wood.  "The polish and finish is like silk."  
  
"I shall pass word to the artisan's shop that you are pleased," said Annette.  "Are there no artisans where you are from?"  
  
"Oh, ours are good, but this woodworker's work is pure artistry," answered the Doctor.  "However, I will admit the sea air makes for certain other goods that of which I have not yet seen the like anywhere else.  I suppose it is true – every province in our empire has it's own strengths."  
  
"Oh, how true!" Maria agreed.  "How boring if they were all the same.  The sea, you say?  I would have thought you from the North..."  
  
"I am not, I am from closer to the borders of Portugal, but along that same coast, but further south," she answered.  
  
"Indeed?" asked Maria.  "You are so far from home.  A pity you fell ill.  I wonder what business found you here..."  
  
"I wish I could say, but I was not privy to that part of my husband's affairs," she answered.  "May ask you something?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I am curious... and rather pious... but I have heard there is a beautiful cathedral here... what is it?" asked the Doctor, noting the paling of Maria's face.  
  
"No one goes to the church anymore.  The padre holds mass in our courtyard and takes confession in the privacy of the people's homes.  It is the territory of the Inquisition... and only those in its grip are called there."  
  
"Are they so bad?" asked Donna.  
  
"Ah, no... they are Men of God... but those taken in there?  Despicable and oft too far out of the Lord's reach to save.  Much as they try," answered Annette.  "And so no one goes in the church since the Inquisitor came.  And those who do never come back."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
 **ACT FOUR**  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
The day moved on quickly after that.  Their belongs -- what little they had brought with them to maintain appearances -- had been moved from the inn to the estate.  The Doctor had a few "fits" while she was there, but began to back off of them after awhile.  
  
Donna had believed they were part of the act.  
  
Until she caught the Doctor almost fall head first off of the upper walkway onto the pavers below.  A well dressed man managed to pull the Doctor back over the rail from her swoon and gently laid her on the stone walk as Donna ran up to them.  "What happened?  Is she all right?" asked Donna.  
  
"She is, thankfully," he answered.  "Ah, there she comes.  Are you all right now?  Antonio, be a good lad and fetch a cup of that port."  
  
"The Doctor..." began Donna.  
  
"Can go hang, for all his uselessness.  Come now, all they know is leech-craft and bleeding.  Quite frankly, from her paleness, I think she needs less of that."  He lifted the Doctor and effortlessly carried her into a set of offices and into a very well appointed study.  
  
Donna only had moments to muse that it was by far the grandest, as well as masculine, room she had been shown so far.  He laid the Doctor down on a couch just as the manservant came into the room at a brisk walk.  "Here is the port you requested, sire."  
  
"Thank you, Antonio.  You are dismissed, for now."  The Lord Mayor turned back to the Doctor with the goblet of port and held it to her lips.  "Come now, this will fortify your blood and health.  It works for me, my dear."  
  
The Doctor opened her eyes, and her hands held the goblet to steady it while the Mayor held the cup as she sipped it.  She pushed it away after a few sips, and he shook his head.  "No, no... all of it and then take your rest.  This will likely go straight to your head, but you'll wake feeling the better for it.  I should know, my mother used to have the same spells as you... and she rested better with this treatment.  Far better than those useless quacks, anyway."  
  
She drank it, and then leaned back, her hand over her eyes as the Mayor watched in concern.  For a long moment, it appeared as if he were studying her intently, and then he looked up and over to Donna.  For a moment, she tried to place where she'd seen him before, but the memory seemed to slide away.  He was studying her as well, and the look he was giving her was one of sadness and regret.  "Do we know each other, sir?" she asked.  
  
"No," he answered honestly.  "We have not met.  I am Lord Enrique de la Porta, Mayor of Valladolid and Lord of the province of Valladolid."  
  
"Donna Noble of Chiswick, well, formally of it," she answered.  "I travel with my lady now."  
  
"Do you indeed?" There was a sardonic note in his voice.  "How interesting.  A handmaiden with a name that denotes nobility... were you such in your home country?"  
  
"Hardly," answered Donna honestly.  "It was a name of much irony, my Lord."  
  
"I see," he mused.  "Well, I wouldn't know about that.  You seem to have the right amount of nobility in your manner, and a fair amount of the same independence.  I am inclined to disagree with your assertion to the contrary, Donna Noble.  Did you know that 'Donna' means 'Lady', as in the wife of a noble lord, in Italian?"  
  
"I did not," answered Donna, surprised by this.  "I suppose that makes my name a double entendre, as unintended as it is."  
  
Enrique laughed, throwing his head back in a hearty laugh.  "So it would seem!" he agreed.  "I can see why the Lady Ortega keeps you around."  
  
He stood up.  "She can rest here for now, but it would be best if she not be left alone when wandering.  Would not want a repeat performance of earlier without someone to catch her, yes?"  
  
"I absolutely agree."  
  


* * * * * * *

  
The Doctor woke slowly, and took a breath.  She was on a well cushioned couch that was equally well carved.  
  
Too well carved.  
  
In fact, she recognized the maker, and when she looked at the back it only confirmed her suspicions when she tore of the manufacturer's tag from the backside of the couch.  Made in the USA, all materials guaranteed new, tag not to be torn off until delivered to consumer...  
  
" _Utinu en lokirim!_ "  
  
" _Lle tela?_ "  
  
The Doctor turned to face the owner of the voice and was a bit surprised.  She wasn't familiar with the man's face, and her grandfather's memories -- now that they were slowing fading into the restore Matrix like they ought to – were rather fuzzy on his identity.  But she was sure that he would have known this man... and known his face.  She felt that there was something important.  
  
And then she realized.  
  
It wasn't her grandfather's fuzzy memories, it was that he had lost these to a block on these particular ones.  Someone had chosen to make him forget them... chosen to let these specifics fade.  But who?  
  
" _Amin sinta lle?_ "  
  
" _Lle lakwenien?_ " He seemed genuinely surprised.  " _Amin hiraetha_ , that was incredibly insensitive of me.  You probably don't even know who I am."  
  
"I believe I said that when I asked," she answered.  "I do know that we're both Time Lords."  
  
"Ah, there is that," he admitted.  "I am known as Lord Enrique de la Porta here, though.  And you are in my house."  
  
"How lovely a house it is, even if you managed to bribe yourself in with anachronistic items.  You impressed Lady Maria into her taking you in as her husband, didn't you?" said the Doctor.  "And now I'm here.  You do realize there is a massive chronistic error in the making."  
  
"I had noticed, actually," he admitted, frowning.  "It had bothered me when it began."  
  
"Are you saying you're not the cause of it?"  
  
"No, I am not.  Despite what those other stiff shirts back in... what are they calling that commune in Antarctica, anyway?  New Gallifrey?" he snorted.  "I do not always strive to cause trouble... merely to make myself a better lot away from their bureaucratic boredom and overbearing control."  
  
"You sound like Braxiatel," she pointed out, and had the pleasure of watching the unfamiliar Time Lord choke on his fine port.  "You aren't...!"  
  
"Oh, by far not!"  He laughed again.  "I'm flattered.  Better than being mistaken for his pain in the arse brother..." He noticed her bristle.  "... that you appear to have some sort of attachment to.  He didn't find yet another perfectly good, and young, Time Lady to corrupt?"  
  
"Mani naa essa en lle!" she demanded.  
  
He paused, as if considering her request.  " _Lle auta yeste', arwenamin_."  
  
"You may call me the Doctor," she answered, icily.  
  
For a long moment she thought he simply stopped, and then she realized she had shocked him so deeply that he had stopped breathing and allowed his respiratory bypass to kick in.  He stood up from his seat and looked at her.  "You cannot be the Doctor.  For one, you are female and I know... for a fact... that he is male."  
  
"I have told you the truth of the matter," she answered evenly.  "You next."  
  
"If you were really, truly, the Doctor you'd already know!" he shouted, and then he took a breath and calmed himself.  "But you aren't, and therefore you don't... so who are you really?"  
  
"I am the Doctor – truly," she answered.  "I have the TARDIS and a task in the universe.  Time's Champion and the Oncoming Storm."  
  
He was still for a moment more, considering this.  "If you have his TARDIS, and his name, but..." He was quiet in thought, and it was as if the realization hit him like a brick to the face.  He turned abruptly and paced the window and leaned on it heavily.  
  
The Doctor was confused, but could see a shocked, and hurt... grieving... individual when she sensed one.  "You knew the Doctor?" she asked.  
  
"Ah, and the truth comes out," he answered.  "Yes, I knew him.  Past tense.  How I never thought I'd live to see the day where he was in the past tense.  Strange... I thought I lived for that day... but now I see I didn't want this day to come at all.  I wonder what I was after all those useless centuries...?"  
  
This last was said almost reverently, and almost in a whisper as if to himself.  He turned back to her and she could see the honest sorrow in his eyes... and feel it as it peeled off him in waves.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked again, in almost the same whisper, dreading the answer but somehow suspecting it all the same.  
  
"I am the Master."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * * * * * * * * *
> 
> TO BE CONTINUED in CHAPTER SIX: AN EMPIRE IN FLAMES (Part Two)
> 
> * * * * * * * * * *
> 
> **Gallifreyan Translations**
> 
>  
> 
> "Utinu en lokirim!" (*Son of a *****!)  
> "Lle tela?" (Are you finished?)  
> "Amin sinta lle?" (Who are you?)  
> "Lle lakwenien?" (Are you joking?)  
> "Amin hiraetha (I'm sorry)  
> "Mani naa essa en lle!" (What is your name!)  
> "Lle auta yeste', arwenamin." ("You first, my Lady", in the familiar)


	6. An Empire in Flames (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and the Master form a reluctant alliance in order to stop another Time Lord bent on twisting history to his own ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously
> 
> After leaving the stricken sea base, the Doctor, Donna and Jenny are surprised by an extremely short flight. They find themselves in medieval Spain, and Jenny rushes to save a young woman from being burnt at the stake. When Jenny is taken into custody, the Doctor and Donna are forced to go undercover as a Spanish noblewoman and her handmaiden. The Doctor realizes that time is slightly off, and events in Spain are moving a bit quicker than they ought and just not quite in their proper order. The time sickness causes her to have fainting spells, while Donna is mercifully unaffected. After a fainting spell in the market, they meet a friendly monk who takes them to the Mayor of Valladolid, and they meet the Lady Maria, who is the Mayor's wife, and she graciously takes them in. A few days later, the Doctor is saved from a nasty tumble by the Mayor himself, who she realizes is none other than...

* * * * * * * *

**ACT FIVE**

* * * * * * * *

  
He was still for a moment more, considering this.  "If you have his TARDIS, and his name, but..." He was quiet in thought, and it was as if the realization hit him like a brick to the face.  He turned abruptly and paced the window and leaned on it heavily.  
  
The Doctor was confused, but could see a shocked, and hurt... grieving... individual when she sensed one.  "You knew the Doctor?" she asked.  
  
"Ah, and the truth comes out," he answered.  "Yes, I _knew_ him.  Past tense.  How I never thought I'd live to see the day where _he_ was in the _past tense_.  Strange... I thought I lived for that day... but now I see I didn't want this day to come at all.  I wonder what I was after all those useless centuries...?"  
  
This last was said almost reverently, and almost in a whisper as if to himself.  He turned back to her and she could see the honest sorrow in his eyes... and feel it as it peeled off him in waves.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked again, in almost the same whisper, dreading the answer but somehow suspecting it all the same.  
  
"I am the Master."  
  
For a long moment she stared at him, fighting the bile that immediately came up at his pronouncement.  The very thought set her teeth on edge.  He didn't look the same as he did so very long ago, but he was so extremely similar in habit and attitude that she was amazed that she hadn't picked up on it before.  He stepped closer and she tried to move away, but the back of the couch prevented it, although she felt herself push into the plush of the back.  "Stay away from me!" she shouted.  
  
"My dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked, almost puzzled.  "At first you claim to not know me, and then when I finally inform you... you are like a coin that has been flipped."  He sighed.  "I suppose he has told you all about me."  
  
"He didn't have to," she ground out.  "I remember you well enough, _Master of Nothing_."  
  
He finally recoiled, standing up straight, his eyes wide.  "You."  
  
"Yes, me," she spat out.  "You should be dead."  
  
"I should be, and would be if not for Chancellor Goth... the naive fool... he helped me survive and took be back to Gallifrey where I languished in the hell you left me in.  I nearly regained myself until your grandfather successfully slipped my trap for him."  He stalked back to his desk and leaned on it, facing away from her.  "I would still be whole, if not for you.  And my TARDIS!  I was forced to take Goth's instead of the safe haven I had built in my own damn TARDIS!"  
  
"You murdered my husband in front of me, you _utinu en lokirim!_ For all I knew, you killed my grandfather in front me as well.  You deserved everything you got... and possibly more.  But I can see that you regained everything you had and don't deserve."  
  
He turned back to face her, and he licked his teeth and smiled.  It wasn't a friendly smile.  "And now we're facing each other again.  What have you got in store for me this time, eh?"  
  
"You assume I even knew you were here.  This time, you have the advantage."  
  
"I assumed that the last time, and I ended up a burned out husk after you fried me.  I won't make that mistake again."  He began to laugh.  It wasn't a laugh of a man who had an enemy where he wanted them, but one that was chiding towards himself and the irony of the situation he suddenly found himself in.  "And of all things, fate would make us allies, of a sort.  The TARDIS brought you here because she felt you ought to be, but the villain you seek is not me.  Of all the screwed up circumstances."  He laughed again.  "As it so happens... the historical mismatch that has been giving you your time sickness and your fainting spells has been affecting me as well, although not as much."  
  
She took a breath and released it.  "Fine, we're allies.  For now.  Don't think it absolves you for what you have done."  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear."  
  


* * * * * * *

  
Donna and Lady Maria stood outside of the Mayor's study and, while the shouting match could be heard, it was mostly unintelligible... to Maria.  Donna tried to keep the poor woman calm as she tried to insist to the guards, and Antonio, that she had every right to be in that room.  Maria was certain that her husband had insulted Lady Suzanna, and from what Donna could understand of the conversation... which was in the Queen's English except for what wasn't... she wasn't that far off.  From the sound of it, the Mayor was another Time Lord and one that the Doctor didn't like much, knew from her past, and Donna's original bean pole Doctor.  
  
After a few moments, the shouting match quieted.  
  
Maria still fretted.  "I will hold a welcoming salon.  My husband will be at a distance.  He is busy... they would not have to see each other much."  
  
Finally the door opened and the Mayor looked out.  "Ah, Donna.  Your lady is feeling much better."  
  
"We heard," said Maria.  "My lord husband, if I could inquire..."  
  
"Ah, you heard..." he looked a bit sheepish.  "We have come to an understanding and we have agreed to let past issues lay for now.  While we are forced to be in the same house we will at least be civil."  
  
"If my lady has caused grievance," began Donna.  
  
"Oh no, well... no worse than what I have done to her.  We both have much to work out and for now we are agreeing to disagree, but also to remain hospitable and even maintain a bit of a working relationship," he answered.  
  
"Enrique..." began Maria.  
  
"Enough, Maria.  What is done is done."  He held up his hand and then looked over at Donna.  "I think we need to have a meeting... Antonio, could you take my wife for some tea?  Donna, if you would."  He moved aside to allow Donna to slip inside and past him.  "Maria..."  
  
"What is going on?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing to worry about, my dear.  We'll work it out.  I promise I'll be a gentleman."  
  


* * * * * *

  
Donna could see the Doctor.  She stood in front of a window and by the rigidity of her back and the very posture, she was not only brooding, but also rather angry.  "Doctor?" asked Donna.  
  
"Well, that confirms my original suspicions about you not being from this time.  Chiswick, really?" drawled Enrique.  "Forgive me, you may call me the Master instead.  Far more accurate than Lord Mayor or Lord Enrique."  
  
Donna only stared at him.  She still possessed most of the Doctor's memories from touching the hand, as error ridden as they were.  But all she needed was that tiny little prod.  "You prat!" she exclaimed two seconds before the back of her hand met his left cheek.  "That's for Gramps."  
  
The Master held his hand to his cheek.  "Who the hell are you and what I have I done to deserve that?!"  
  
"Donna bloody Noble, you space dunce!" she yelled as if it should have been obvious.  "Before I was this Doctor's companion, I was the pinstriped Doctor's companion."  
  
The Master paled perceptively.  "Oh," was all he said, as he continued to rub his sore cheek.  "Damn, woman, where did you learn to slap?"  
  
Donna pointed her finger at him, "Oi!"  
  
"And the Doctor actually travelled with you?  Or did you bully yourself onto the TARDIS and slap him into submission?"  
  
Donna stood there for a moment, her mouth poised as if to say 'oi' once more, but nothing coming out.  The Doctor knew what was coming, even if the Master didn't.  To shock Donna Noble into silence, or that close to it, was to court disaster.  Her grandfather had learned the hard way many, many times over.  
  
And the repercussions were not long in coming.  
  
She was a very physical and passionate woman, and the Master shortly discovered this by being on the wrong side of her hand.  The Doctor watched Donna practically launched herself on the other Time Lord as she began pummelling him with her hands.  A few moments later, she spent her anger and the Master, wisely, learned to duck and cover.  He looked up from under his arms and she gave him one more slap on the shoulder for good measure.  
  
"Donna, I think that's enough."  
  
"Yes, please, I've definitely had enough," agreed the Master, rubbing his shoulder ruefully.  "I think I'll have bruises on my bruises."  
  
"So I take we've found our _problem_ then?" asked Donna, clearly indicating the Master.  
  
"Well... actually..." began the Doctor, and then she sighed.  "Actually, no, we have not.  The Master is actually here trying to fit in and make a life for himself sans the drums... you are without those drums?"  
  
"Have been since that last unfortunate incident involving Rassilon himself trying to make Earth into a New Gallifrey in his image.  I severed the connection once I realized the truth of it," he answered, and then he smiled.  "Actually, you should be thanking me in regards to that."  
  
"Why?" asked the Doctor warily.  
  
"If not for me, and a well timed jump with a purloined vortex manipulator -- horrible way to travel, by the way.  I do not suggest it."  He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.  "Anyway, if not for said jump, the Lady Autumn would still be behind the Time Lock and forced to be at Rassilon's side for eternity... stuck in that very moment."  
  
The Doctor stared at him.  "Are you saying you saved her?"  
  
"Well... not on purpose, no... but the unintended contact I had with her when I jumped out in the nick of time, as the saying goes, had a rather agreeable effect did it not?" asked the Master.  
  
"Of course, now I remember you!  You're Harold Saxon, that nutter who went crazy... oh shit," finished Donna.  "You were a Time Lord the entire time?"  
  
The Master sighed again. "Yes, I would guess that would be fairly obvious by now, isn't it?"  
  
The Doctor took his measure.  Gone was the bleached blonde look, although his face was the same even if it looked like he had aged a human decade, making him look closer to forty-five versus the early thirties he had always passed for.  His hair was now a more natural, while still close to blonde, a medium brown with a few greys threading through his temples.  What made her smile, inwardly, was the return of the goatee style beard he was sporting.  It also had some grey threading through it.  
  
While the body and the eyes were of the now familiar to most of Britain as one of their Prime Ministers, all the Doctor could see was the very first Master she had met, and the very one that had been UNIT's worst enemy in the seventies.  
  
It was as if, with the end of the drums, the Master had fallen back into a familiar, and old, habit.  He was still selfish, still very full of himself, but also far more at ease with himself.  Less hurried.  It was as if the weight of the cursed drums, and Rassilon's will, had lifted far more from his shoulders than just the driving need to take over everything.  There was something else as well; something new now that he knew his old enemy was dead.  It seemed to sap his former drive and desire.  
  
The connection once made was hard to put back into the stall.  The horse had jumped the fence and there was no going back.  
  
"You loved him," said the Doctor, suddenly realizing it.  "And he didn't love you back."  
  
The Master, halfway through drinking a glass of port, spewed it back out and vaporized it as he coughed and sputtered in shock at her statement.  " _What?!_ " he exclaimed, once he had regained his breath.  "What gave you that idea?"  
  
"I have enough friends who are not hetero, and those who are, to recognize the signs," answered the Doctor.  
  
"I am as progressive as the next fellow, but that was not the case with your grandfather," the Master answered.  "You are close, however.  There was a type of love there, once.  We were best friends, almost brothers.  As the humans say, 'Peas in a pod'.  Even research partners.  But 'in love' or lust, no.  Not that I judge anyone for that... and that did happen on Gallifrey.  Sometimes more often than in others.  _C'est la vie_ with a species that can regenerate and suddenly end up the opposite sex... but even if it were to happen with either of us, it just wasn't that kind of relationship."  
  
Donna snorted in disbelief, and the Master looked over at her in annoyance.  "Is something wrong?"  
  
"If he was such a good friend of yours, why'd you do what you did to him?" she demanded.  
  
For her part, the Doctor wanted to know as well.  "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?" he groused.  "Oh wait, it is.  Although... speaking of which... have either of you noticed something off about it?"  
  
"It is too early," answered the Doctor.  "Queen Isabella constituted it, and she is not on the throne.  In fact, she is due to marry..."  The Doctor stiffened as she realized it and glared at the Master.  "You were expecting this!"  
  
"This?  No... expecting to happen what should happen here, and soon, yes."  He shrugged noncommittally.  "I was hoping to take advantage and carve a decent life here with the foundations of a better future... a nice, anonymous, future away from your grandfather's style of life.  Or even the kind of life my drum-ridden former self was drawn to."  
  
"But definitely the kind of life your original self wanted every time my grandfather's third incarnation ran across you.  I remember these old habits, Koschei."  The Doctor leaned back.  "Or rather, my grandfather does... did..."  
  
The Master wasn't stupid.  He was clever, as clever as the Doctor ever was, and he caught the slip.  "But your grandfather is dead... but there was no Matrix for him to vanish into.  Dear Pythia and Rassilon... he didn't!"  The horror on his face was plain as he spun around, and his eyes met hers.  "He did.  You are the Doctor, not in just legacy but it truth more so than anyone knows.  His memories are yours, but they are fading."  
  
The Doctor remained quiet.  "Enough of this.  We have, as you said, a bigger issue that -- if you will note -- will affect your oh so important quest to fade into the background into a comfortable retirement... or whatever it is you're calling this, Koschei."  
  
"That's not my name anymore than your grandfather's was Theta Sigma."  
  
"If you think I'm calling you that idiotic name you insist on calling yourself, you have another thing coming," retorted the Doctor.  
  


* * * * * *

  
Jenny felt as if she were being stifled.  She was constantly watched by the sisters, and with supervision was constantly tutored by Padre Carlos Hernandez.  It wasn't as bad as she had feared it would be but it wasn't the freedom of the TARDIS either.  Jenny was rather confused about her own feelings, but the Padre's voice brought her out of her internal struggle.  "Now, Jennifer, you have come so far in your schooling.  Why not bring me up to date with what the sisters have been teaching you for this short week."  
  
"They have taught me patience, to listen to the word of God, silence and vigilance," she answered.  "Some things still confuse me, but I must admit I find the peace here soothing."  
  
"That is good to hear!" exclaimed the Abbess of the Mother-house.  "I am so glad... I was so concerned that we were making you miserable and it pained me to see it."  
  
"It is... different.  I am not miserable, but I also miss being out in God's world and under his sky, and that saddens me."  _And among His stars_ , but she didn't add this aloud.  They would think her insane on top of everything and she wasn't about to push her luck.  "But the time spent in the gardens simply tending to the herbs and chickens are very close to what I once had."  
  
Not even close to life on the TARDIS, but still...  
  
The Abbess and Padre shared looks that were approving, and the Abbess patted her knee.  "Now tell the Padre what else you have learned.  Oh, Padre Carlos, she is quick this one..."  
  
"Indeed, child?  You must be to have impressed the Abbess."  
  
"I... I did what I could and applied myself, but she gives me too much credit," answered Jenny, blushing in embarrassment.  
  
"Such humility... the Lord looks well upon that!" exclaimed Padre Carlos.  
  
"Well, the sisters have taught me to cook, clean properly and to pray.  They have taught me their daily routine, to which I try to follow but it is all so new," answered Jenny.  "They have begun to teach me the hymns and I sing with the choir every mass."  
  
"And she sings them so well.  I will be assigning her a solo in the next public mass on Sunday in the borrowed space within the courtyard of the Lord Mayor's estate. I have already told him we have a special treat in store," added the Abbess.  "He seems very intrigued."  
  
"As he should be.  The Lord indeed works in mysterious ways.  It is unfortunate how you came to us, but the Lord granted you mercy and you have acted upon in.  I have one, rather tough, test for you, Jennifer.  You will be called before the Tribunal to answer for what you have done, but I will speak for you on your behalf so that they will go easy upon you..." Carlos sighed.  "I wish it could be avoided.  I am sorry, Jennifer."  
  
"I am too, now that I know the grievous error I committed before the Lord," echoed Jenny.  
  
"Well, I for one will also speak for her and petition for a gentle sentence," said the Abbess.  "I believe the sisters are also praying for clemency."  
  
"Such testimony will go far before the Tribunal when it is called," came another voice and the three of them looked over.  
  
The Abbess and Padre bowed, and Jenny, knowing that if they were bowing, knelt before the man and kissed the ring on his hand when it was offered.  She had no idea who he was, but she knew he was someone important if this much was granted to him.  "Lord Inquisitor, I did not know you had come to visit the Mother-house," started the Abbess.  
  
"I wanted to see this prodigy of yours before the Tribunal.  As it is, I think the Tribunal will come to a gentle agreement of some clemency... in fact, considering I have final say it will be mere formality."  The Inquisitor waved off her concern.  "Jennifer of No Where, as you have been called, you have been accused of heresy in public and freeing another who had been found guilty of heresy, enough to warrant the severe punishment of relaxation to the secular arm for public execution.  However, the evidence states that you had no idea, and therefore it was not premeditated but out of a sense of mercy and justice, which are both ideals and qualities of the Lord.  This puts us in a rather interesting dilemma.  I must punish you for a crime, but I also find myself in the quandary of what punishment fits?"  
  
There was a long silence as the water clock ticked by a few moments.  The Inquisitor looked at Carlos.  "What say you, Padre Hernandez?"  
  
"Please consider clemency and mercy, Lord Inquisitor.  She acted out of innocence, not out criminal or heretical intent," answered Carlos.  "She has much to still learn, but she has applied herself fully to it."  
  
The Inquisitor leaned back in his chair.  "Madre?"  
  
"She has acted and behaved as any sister in our mother-house would, and abided by our rules.  She has also applied herself to learning our ways.  She would be a loss if you decided on a severe ruling.  I ask also for clemency and mercy on her behalf, as do the sisters who have come to love her.  They think of her as a cloistered sister, a penitent," she answered honestly.  
  
Silence reigned in the room again.  Finally the Inquisitor nodded.  "And it is thus you tell me how I am to apply discipline in this case.  Do you have any property, Jennifer?"  
  
"I... I do not," she answered.  
  
She wasn't lying either.  The TARDIS wasn't hers and she didn't have much except for the clothes on her back.  She was a passenger on her own niece's ship.  "So, I cannot take your property for punishment... but I can do something else.  It is the decision of the Tribunal that you will serve as a sister, a nun, in the service to God and the Holy Roman Church.  You will submit yourself formally to the Abbess as a penitent."  
  
"Thank you, Lord Inquisitor, for your mercy," said the Abbess as she bowed low.  "I will endeavour to train and teach this young one in the light of the Lord."  
  
With that the Inquisitor left and the Abbess and Padre looked at her.  "I feel as if I should dance for joy... Jennifer, do you know what this means?" asked Carlos.  
  
"Er... no?" answered Jenny.  
  
"It means your punishment is to never be without the sisters... you will be one of us from now on," the Abbess clapped her hands and then clasped them as if in prayer.  "Thank the Lord the Inquisitor was merciful, and that God brought you to us.  Truly his hand was on your shoulder!"  
  
"You mean I can stay?" asked Jenny, dumbfounded.  
  
"Yes!  You no longer have to live on the fringes and forage for food or shelter... the Lord has provided," answered the Abbess, and she hugged Jenny close.  "I am so very happy.  Not only for you, but also for us... we prayed that the Lord would not take you from us."  
  
Jenny had no idea what to say, but tears pricked behind her eyes.  First, she knew how lucky she was.  She could have been imprisoned for life, tortured, or even executed.  Not only was this easily escaped, it wasn't all that unpleasant.  It was a bit simple, even primitive, but it was peaceful.  She supposed that if her assumed excuse had been true for someone, this would not be a punishment but a second chance, and so she breathed a huge sigh of relief.  
  
But she was also rather touched.  The sisters loved her here, and they were a small, but open and welcoming group and the Abbess lived up to her title and threw herself into the role of the Mother-house’s "Mum".  
  
Jenny felt rather confused.  
  
She missed the TARDIS, the stars and the _running_...  
  
... but she also liked it here.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT SIX**

* * * * * * * *

  
Another young woman paced the camp impatiently.  Finally a horse rode up and the Lord Mayor of Valladolid slid off the saddle.  He bowed low and Isabella nodded.  He stood up.  "My Lady, I am sorry I was not able to come see you sooner."  
  
"How fares your wife, Enrique?" asked Isabella.  
  
"She fares well," he answered.  "Thank you for asking.  She cannot wait until you can visit us openly and plans for a salon to end all salons for when you can."  
  
"I look forward to her hospitality, as well as that day.  What word from Lord Ferdinand?"  
  
"He waits on the other side of Valladolid, my future Queen.  He sends his love and his regards and waits impatiently for the day when you and he are wed in holy matrimony," answered the Master smoothly, and for once in his life, honestly.  
  
The Master had been brokering the marriage between Isabella and Ferdinand for months, knowing that history did say they were to marry this very summer and in Valladolid.  The former Lord Mayor had been a vicious opponent to Lord Ferdinand and fiercely loyal to Isabella's brother, the current King.  
  
An unfortunate "accident" while hunting had seen to the end of the former Lord Mayor and left the Lady Maria widowed, and in the odd position of being the new Lady of Valladolid.  Ironically, while the Master had no involvement with the old Lord Mayor's death, he had been involved in making sure it was required for her to remarry in order to keep her title, and so he had been conveniently the only noble in the area unattached and unmarried.  He had swept the Lady Maria off her feet and they were married last year in a large ceremony.  
  
At first, the Master had been nonplussed with being married... again... to a human woman in order to maintain appearances.  It had far too many parallels to his life as Harold Saxon and the disaster with Lucy on the Valiant.  However, Maria had warmed significantly to him, and she was strong in her own right... a perfect counterpoint to his own strong will.  He had grown rather fond of the woman over the year he had been here.  
  
It was still very clear, despite his title as Lord Mayor, who actually ran the house... and that person was not him.  Lady Maria knew the house rightfully was hers and he was merely the consort.  He had been a bit rankled by this, but the even footing with the woman meant she could speak her mind, which she often did, and he could speak his, which also often did.  Eventually the his and hers had simply become theirs and the first time he caught himself thinking in such terms had more than startled him, but it did not disturb near as much as he thought it would have.  In fact, it felt unusually... comfortable, and that was not a feeling he was accustomed to.  
  
It was then he decided that he would do what he could to protect his new life and to hell with the consequences.  
  
Which was why he found himself smack dab in the middle of a civil war in medieval Spain endeavouring to keep a fixed point the way it ought to be.  All right, so he still had a nose for trouble, but that wasn't likely to change.  
  
 _Rassilon, when did I turn into the Doctor?_  
  
"Good, I cannot wait for that day either," answered Isabella.  "Has my brother any idea of what is happening?"  
  
"I know not, at this point, my Lady.  I have not received any missives from my contacts in the Madrid," he answered.  
  
"Pity," she said.  "Have you found the person responsible for my betrayal?"  
  
"No, I have not.  I have set my best man upon the task and I have no doubt that he will uncover the truth of the matter.  I am curious, how did you escape?" he asked.  
  
"It is the strangest thing," she answered.  "A strange girl, dressed equally strange, came out of nowhere and freed me, and then fought off the guards.  She neatly caused a distraction which allowed me to escape.  As I understand it, she was unfortunately caught.  I have sworn to rescue her, and failing that, avenge any harm she may have come to."  
  
The Master felt his mind whirl at this.  "A strange girl, you say?"  
  
Could she be the missing Companion the Doctor spoke of?  The coincidence was simply too much.  She had to be.  "Yes, a blonde girl.  Young, quite pretty.  Strangely unfamiliar to the Holy Roman Church..."  
  
Now the Master was certain she was a Companion of the Doctor.  "Hmm... I think I may have a lead on her identity, and perhaps with that I can update you to her fate."  
  
"I would be indebted to you if you did.  Please keep me informed," she answered.  "Tell Ferdinand that I will be moving camp to the east of the city, in the forests there.  I should hope that he will join me and then we can come before the church and be married."  
  
"I will do as you ask, my Lady."  
  
With that he took her dismissal and rode back into the forest, meeting back up with the road and Antonio.  "Did you find your quarry, my Lord?" he asked.  
  
"No, twas gone before I got there.  I suppose I only frightened it, not actually hit it.  Blast, you're a better shot than I.  Perhaps you should lead the hunt.  Maria will be disappointed that I did not bring back any quail."  The Master sighed.  
  
"Perhaps you should," he answered with a grin.  "Shall we ride back?"  
  
"Yes, we should.  It will be dark soon and I would rather not have this fine stallion turn an ankle.  My wife would have my head if I harmed any of her prize stock," he grimaced.  
  
The Master was not a horse person.  He found the gait to have a rather jarring effect on his lower back and arse, but he wouldn't admit it.  His wife had a love of horses and kept a prizewinning stable.  He much preferred his books, which was why this Inquisitor made him nervous.  
  
The one thing that had not changed was that the Master preferred to be in control of his environment and someone causing unease was someone who needed to be dealt with; and quickly.    
  


* * * * * *

  
The Doctor waited in the study, reading one of the many books in the library.  Donna and Annette had gone to market.  As much as she wished she could herself, she had to maintain the illusion of being ill.  Lady Maria had not gone to market as she had other responsibilities where it concerned the running of the House.  The Master, as the Lord Mayor, had his own responsibilities where it concerned City Council.  
  
"My lady?" came a voice, and the Doctor looked up.  
  
She smiled widely as she saw the monk that had introduced her to Maria and brought her to the Mayor's estate.  "Brother Miguel!" she cried happily.  "What brings you here?"  
  
"I wished to see Donna, actually," he answered.  "But you as well.  How are you feeling?"  
  
"Better... much better," she answered.  "And you?"  
  
"I am well, thank you."  He remained standing.  
  
"Oh, please sit," she motioned to the many chairs.  "You make me uncomfortable if you stand while I am not."  
  
"Thank you my Lady!"  He sat with a happy sigh.  "I have been on my feet all day.  The rest is welcome."  
  
"Would you like refreshment?  The cook here has this assistant that makes a wonderful iced beverage from the sweet herbs that grow in the area and sweet wine."  
  
"Much as that sounds lovely, but I must decline," he said.  "My Lady, I come to you with a sensitive matter that I feel only you can help me with."  
  
"I have no idea what to say, but I would be more than happy to help in any way I can," she answered.  
  
"I think... I think I may be having a crisis of faith and my vows," he stated, and when she made a motion to question him he held up a hand.  "Well, perhaps faith is too strong, and no, I don't feel I can talk about this to my brothers.  But you are neutral... well... sort of."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand."  
  
"It's Donna!" he cried as he put his head in his hands.  "I swore an oath to God that I would keep myself separate from the world and then he set upon the lovely and kind creature that is this wonderful woman in my path and I feel as if I am being rent in two."  
  
The Doctor felt her eyes widen, and she chuckled.  He gave her an affronted look.  "I do not mean to look as if I take this lightly, Miguel, but Donna is a very unique woman and I am not surprised you have fallen for her so.  Those who do fall so very hard, but she is also very difficult to win over... you see... her last husband left her for another woman and refused to return to her.  And then he was killed in a stupid skirmish... him and the house-breaker together, I am led to understand.  Her second husband was killed in an accident.  Both these instances happened when she was away and left her broken-hearted.  She has sworn off attaching herself to any others."  
  
Miguel gasped in horror.  "Dear God, the poor woman.  I had wondered, but I wonder no more.  Did she have children from either?"  
  
"The first, no, they were not even quite married when he left her at the alter, the second..." The Doctor trailed off.  "The child was in the carriage as well."  
  
"Oh, dear... oh... the poor, poor woman..."  Miguel wiped tears from his eyes.  "God truly set another puzzle before me and now my crisis seems averted.  I think I know what I am to do."  He nodded, and the Doctor wasn't even sure what he meant, but Miguel didn't seem about to tell her.  "Thank you, my Lady, you have helped more than you know."  
  
He stood.  "Are you leaving so soon?" she asked, quizzically.  
  
"I fear I must, I have a sudden realization that this was no temptation before me but in fact my duty lies clear as fine crystal, and I must act quickly, but think thoroughly before I do... and for that I need to think."  He smiled brightly.  "I do my best thinking while walking."  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Master walked back into his study and stopped dead in his tracks.  The Doctor was sleeping on the very expensive couch, a book on the floor as if she had fallen asleep midway.  This concerned him.  If she was this ill with the time sickness, then it either meant he was soon to follow or that his own senses were dulled.  
  
Either way, it meant they had very little time and it appeared to be mostly up to him.  
  
Strange turn of affairs, this.  
  
He was used to causing issues and watching the Doctor fix them.  It had been almost tradition... something to look forward to.  What puzzle could he create that maybe would foil the Doctor.  He wasn't used to having to fix them with the Doctor sidelined.  
  
Or dead and buried.  
  
Something behind his hearts felt like it was ballooning again.  No, he would not let this... this... whatever it was... swamp him and cloud his ability to think.  Much as he hated this woman for what she'd done to him, he was also strangely protective of her.  He was not romantically interested in the least no matter how pretty her current body was, or how pretty the previous had been.  
  
All right, if he truly thought about it, her retribution had been somewhat fitting, even if heartsless.  
  
He blew out a breath.  
  
Ever since the drums had finally been taken away, and he had been allowed to think for himself again, he had finally been able to look back.  Life with the drums had been... Rassilon... he'd gone off the deep end and done things he'd never have done.  
  
Destroy the Earth?  Unthinkable waste.  Outright kill the Doctor and everyone on Gallifrey?  Equally so.  
  
The Year that Never Was was the prime example of how far the drums had taken him off his own sense of logical scruples.  That sort of thing was something a madman would do.  And, frankly, that had been what he was.  While he was still in the same body as he had been then, if older, he could only shudder at what had nearly happen and had been thankfully foiled.  
  
Earth, in his opinion -- his normal opinion -- was full of primitive apes, yes, but they were useful apes with an equally useful world.  He had nearly destroyed it and caused a paradox that would have only not destroyed them but also everything and that had never, ever, been his real intention before.  That had been the blasted drums... and Rassilon's own madness forced upon him.  
  
He chose his name well... the Master... and it told people his true intent.  Mastery over himself, over his environment, over others if necessary and if he was the best suited for the job.  Usually he was.  He was the Master... the best at anything he set his hand to do.  
  
This woman's assertion, and nickname, that implied he was "Master of Nothing" indicated a lack of control, lack of ability and kicked his ego squarely where the sun didn't shine.  It was a brutal reminder that while he may be the Master of some things, there was still much to master and learn... but he would... oh, he would.  He'd show those who ever doubted that he would amount to anything just what he could do...  
  
Everything he had done (before the drums) had been aimed towards that goal.  
  
And he had proved it.  He had been the best warrior, enough for the Time Lords to resurrect him for the Time War because they needed him.  He was the best planner, the best strategist.  The best at carrying out those plans.  He had mastered what was necessary, when it was necessary and proved himself.  He had even seen what Rassilon had planned and decided that he wanted nothing to do with it.  
  
He had even, out of the jaws of a Time Lock, removed Autumn and Romana from Rassilon's side and denied Rassilon the satisfaction of having both of them condemned to the same hell.  
  
The Master's smile fell off.  
  
He knew the Doctor knew of Autumn...  
  
... but he was concerned that Romana hadn't revealed herself yet.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT SEVEN**

* * * * * * * *

  
The Inquisitor drummed his fingers on the fine oak desk in the study he had been granted.  He was rather unsure of this turn of events.  Jennifer of Nowhere was an interesting puzzle that he turned around his mind over and over again.  He brought out a device that was hidden in a pocket of his robes.  In this time, it would have been considered magic and witchcraft.  
  
Stupid humans.  
  
In another time period, however, it was simply known as the Blackberry.  
  
He tapped in the number and a triangle appeared on the screen.  "We have a complication... there is a woman in the abbey that they have called 'Jennifer of Nowhere'.  While she may be an unfortunate who was raised in the rurality of Valladolid, I suspect otherwise."  
  
"Does she suspect you?" came a voice on the other side.  
  
"No, I seriously doubt she even knows what or who I am.  She may be human, she may not be.  I have no way of telling without a physical exam and considering the time and place, it would be considered highly inappropriate," he answered.  "I do, however, think the Lord Mayor suspects something.  At least, he keeps giving me strange looks.  I don't trust him, as much as we need his cooperation."  
  
"Do you have a picture of either?"  
  
"Have not had the opportunity to do so.  He keeps himself busy with the affairs of his office and family, only spending the odd moment hunting... and let me tell you... he's a terrible shot with a crossbow."  The Inquisitor chuckled.  "And a terrible horseman.  It is a good thing they do not have to rely on either skill to keep themselves."  
  
"History says the Lord Mayor was not a man of the outdoors, but a man of study.  It is to be expected.  The personality note is also normal.  He was naturally suspicious of others and the history books state he was not the most pious, but also not opposed, which was why he managed to avoid the Inquisition.  He was also a close friend of Queen Isabel... ah... he may not be hunting but in fact may be brokering the marriage of Isabel to Ferdinand the Second, as Valladolid is where they were married.  Remember that."  
  
"I know this!" he hissed.  "But he is wily.  I have not been able to catch him at it once."  
  
There was silence at the other end.  "We have a picture of him."  
  
"And?"  
  
"He is known in this time...!  He is no human, but a Time Lord like you... he's the Master.  Be careful, Inquisitor.  He is a foe deserving of your calibre, and he suspects you then he will be even more cautious."  
  
The Inquisitor leaned back in thought.  "The Master?  Are you certain?"  
  
"Quite -- he made the mistake of running, and winning, the office as Prime Minister of Britain a few years ago to our perspective.  His face is well known here, which is probably why he is there.  He likely went there to hide, but live with a certain amount of money and comfort, so he will be quite determined to keep it."  The voice turned thoughtful.  "Strange, it is out of his character to preserve fixed points but it appears that he, so far, is acting as he ought to do so.  Perhaps the drums Rassilon cursed him with are gone and the old Master has returned, or in the least one that is more introspective.  Still, be cautious.  That makes him a bit of a wild card."  
  
"I will remember to do so."  
  
"Get us a picture of this Jennifer of Nowhere.  We suspect she is as you say, but it is better to be certain of her harmless nature.  Until then, she can be ignored so long as she remains at the Abbey."  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Master read the missive while absently petting the homing pigeon as it cooed in its coop.  Ferdinand had received his message and was also moving his camp to where he had indicated in his message.  
  
With a sigh, he washed his hands and set the pigeon back in its cage, giving it an extra amount of food and water.  "Rest, you've earned your keep, silly bird," he said to it, knowing logically that it didn't understand him... just understood that the food was better.  
  
He retired to the bathing chambers and cleaned himself up with hot water and a bath and then dressed in cleaned clothes and made his way to the dining hall where his wife and guests already waited.  "Ah, Lady Suzanna, you're well enough to share the table with us I see.  I'm glad."  
  
The Doctor inclined her head but didn't say anything.  Dinner was otherwise quiet, except for Maria's conversation on the salon she couldn't wait to throw.  The Doctor lifted her brow, wondering what guest they were expecting for such a party but kept her silence.  The Master deferred quietly to Maria and Donna watched them all.  
  
Finally, dinner ended and they got up as the Master did.  "I think I shall retire early tonight, if Maria would forgive my indulgence."  
  
"...Did you wish for me to join you?" she asked, lifting a brow.  
  
"Perhaps," he admitted, smiling slightly and the Doctor managed to prevent herself from rolling her eyes, but Donna didn't quite keep herself from snorting behind her goblet of wine.  "I am also planning another little trip into the forest to see if I can perhaps finally catch a quail worthy of dinner and wish to be up early."  
  
"Oh," Maria seemed slightly disappointed.  "Do you wish company?"  
  
"No, no, that will not be necessary."  
  
"Will you be back in the eve?"  
  
"I intend to not stray so far as to not be back in the evening, my dear," answered the Master.  "I should be back in time for dinner, actually."  
  
"Ah, good then, the Lord Inquisitor asked your indulgence tomorrow evening to meet with him.  Something about finally re-opening the cathedral for mass," she said.  
  
"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, and then caught the first part.  "Wait, what?"  
  
"Just in case you are late, did you wish for him to wait in your study?" asked Annette.  
  
"Oh, no... actually, have him over for dinner and have him wait in here.  Far grander and suited for a person of his rank, don't you think?" he asked, with a chuckle.  
  
"It will be as you say, my Lord," answered Annette.  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Lord Inquisitor was rather nonplussed to asked to dinner, but it would have been extremely rude to refuse the honour of not just being granted a meeting with the secular arm of governance of the province, but also the opportunity to do so in a welcoming atmosphere.  Which was why he found himself in the grand hall within the Lord Mayor's estate, mingling with the few guests the Lord Mayor allowed.  
  
Lady Maria was an extremely pious woman, and was very honoured by his presence and took it upon herself to personally introduce him to everyone, including her honoured guests, Lady Suzanna del Ortega and her twice-widowed Celtic handmaiden Donna.  
  
Donna was an interesting name for a Celt, but his attention was immediately on the Lady Suzanna and he immediately wished that his cover had not been a celibate man of God.  She was lovely, not overly young but neither was she old.  Her hair fell in loose ringlets but, at the moment, were swept up into a neat bun at the back of her head.  She had the olive complexion of most Spanish women, but also the delicate features of a modern model, and the equally white smile.  She was slender, but not skin and bone.  
  
She was like a tiny, delicate bird with the grace of a dancer.  
  
At least, to his eyes, she was perfect.  He could tell by the way others reacted that she was beautiful to others standards as well.  
  
The perfect teeth were a warning, but he decided to ignore it.  It was possible, even in this time period, for a smart woman to keep her teeth healthy and not that out of place.  
  
He was immediately knocked clear off his feet and his hearts leapt at the sight of her.  
  
This was the epitome of beauty, to him.  She was graceful in motion, and demure and polite in manner.  When this was over and his role in this era was over, he would take her for his own, and damned if she understood it when he took her into his TARDIS and back to proper civilization.  
  
As he was swept away from her and her handmaiden, he waited until he had been introduced to everyone else, and then politely excused himself to surreptitiously move to a private corner.  Taking out his Blackberry, he quickly, and steadily, took a few pictures of her, as well as a short video, for later when his bed was far too cold and lonely to bear.  
  
She never noticed.  
  
He slide the Blackberry back into his pocket and went back into the dining hall, just as the woman paled and nearly swooned.  He was the closest and so caught her before she fell.  Maria and Donna were immediately by his side.  "I knew she wasn't better!" cried Maria.  "Oh, forgive me, my Lord... she has been ill lately."  
  
"There is nothing to forgive... and... it is no bother either.  Perhaps we should take her to her room where she can rest?" he asked, with a disarming smile, while blessing whatever God or fortune had decided to make his day that he not only got to see her, but also hold her, even if without her knowledge.  
  
Donna bowed.  "I will show you, my Lord."  
  
He followed the ginger woman through the estate and up to the rooms, laying the woman down on her bed, suddenly aware than his underwear seemed a bit tighter than they had been before.  "Perhaps if we made her more comfortable?" he asked her handmaiden.  
  
"I shall do it, sire," she said.  "You need not bother yourself."  
  
"Nonsense, it will take the two of us to move her without causing injury.  Here, I will lift her, and you loosen the corset and her hair."  
  
Donna did so, and he could tell that she was aware of his flushed face and rather embarrassing difficulty.  
  
It was when he almost slipped and had to readjust his grip on her back once the corset slid off that he felt the dual heartsbeat under his hands, and the cooler temperature of her body.  At first, it was all he could do to keep himself from waking her and telepathically asserting himself into her psyche, but then the thin thread of fear ran through him.  
  
She was as he was -- a Time Lord, or in the least a Gallifreyan.  He felt his nostrils flare as he filled his senses with her scent, and caught the scent of Donna and realized that so was she.  
  
Two Gallifreyans?  
  
 _Well, well_... he thought.  _The Master has indeed outdone himself.  A human noble lady to secure his place and a beautiful Time Lady lover and her Gallifreyan handmaiden.  
_  
But, as Grandfather Paradox as his witness, this beautiful creature would not long belong to the Master.  
  
She would be his.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT EIGHT**

* * * * * * * *

  
The Doctor woke feeling slightly muzzy and ill.  When she realized she was in the bed within the chambers lent to her by the De la Porta's, and not the TARDIS making this entire crazy month a port induced nightmare like she kept hoping it was, she flopped back into the pillows.  A chuckle escaped a rather masculine throat and she felt herself grasp the bed covers up further as she glared at the intruder.  "Who are you?" she asked imperiously when she remembered the salon from last night.  "Lord Inquisitor... much as I am... honoured... I must wonder at your presence."  
  
"Any more than I must wonder at yours, _my Lady_ ," he pronounced the last bit with some force, but otherwise appeared jovial.  "I wonder if Lord Ortega knows there is a Time Lady masquerading as his dead wife in Valladolid?"  
  
"I don't think I understand..." The Doctor's eyes widened.  How would he know that?  Unless... ah, of course.  
  
He was the paradox... or the cause of it.  
  
"I think we both know what the other is here for, the only question is what we intend to do about it."  
  
"Somehow, I don't think we do, and as for what I intend to do about it is none of your concern," retorted the Doctor, ignoring the gleeful look in his eyes.  
  
"My, such spirit.  The Master must enjoy you so," he replied before he leaned closer.  "But I could be so much better."  
  
For a long moment the Doctor stared at him in shock, then horror at what he suggested... both instances of... and then she began to laugh.  "Oh... how mistaken you are... as if I'd ever touch him.  I don't even like him. In fact, I detest him with an overpowering need to wipe his presence from the universe."  
  
The Lord Inquisitor blinked in surprise.  He clearly hadn't been expecting that.  "You... what?"  
  
"I didn't even know he was here, both in the sense of when or where, until I was introduced to him as the Lord Mayor a month ago.  Why, what did he tell you?" Her eyes thinned in sudden suspicion.  
  
"He never suggested anything untoward, not even hinted.  He was a proper gentlemen," answered the Lord Inquisitor honestly.  "I thought he was simply ignoring my jibes, but now I see otherwise.  I am sorry for even thinking such an improper thing, my Lady.  My name is Valdaglerion of House Paradox, formally House..."  
  
"Oh by the Pythia," breathed the Doctor in horror.  "No... no, no..."  
  
"I realize you will find me... horrifying by that, but I assure you, I mean no harm to you."  He smiled disarmingly.  "I cannot escape the House of my birth anymore than you can, but I can choose to live differently, yes?"  
  
"Maybe, but the paradox that keeps causing my time sickness says otherwise... unless, by some huge coincidence, you're here to stop it too," she answered.  
  
"Perhaps I am," he said.  "After all, who better than someone raised to create them?"  
  
"And you honestly expect me to believe that?"  
  
"I honestly don't care if you do or not," he grinned, and the gentleness was gone from it.  "I simply expect you to roll over and let me take you to stand at my side."  
  
"No."  
  
" _You **will** stand at my side_ ," he intoned as he drew closer to her, staring her in the eye.  
  
The Doctor felt the weight of his mind slam into hers, trying to claw his way into her psyche.  He had already tried when she was asleep by picking away at her weak points and felt him slip inside like a wisp of dirty smoke.  
  
 _What an orderly mind you have... Doctor... **the Doctor**?!_... he recoiled, and the Doctor managed to close other doors as if steel girded them.  He tried to break down the barriers over and over again until they both came back to reality panting and breathing heavy, bathed in sweat.  He stared at her in horror and a grudging respect.  "You are no delicate flower, despite your appearance... and... I was not expecting you to be here.  Well, well... now it makes sense.  The Master and the Doctor, standing at opposite ends once more."  
  
With that he left her.  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Doctor stormed into the Master's study and stopped when she looked upon the two other people within.  
  
One was a man she didn't recognize.  
  
The other was the very woman Jenny had saved from the stake.  She blinked.  "I'm sorry, Lord Enrique, I did not know you were indisposed."  
  
"It is of no consequence.  Actually, I think you can perhaps help in this matter," answered the Master.  "Isabel, Ferdinand, this is Lady Suzanna... a guest in my house and a... trusted... accomplice."  
  
She glared at the Master.  _What the hell are you doing?  
_  
 _Keeping Time the way it ought!  Are you with me?_  
  
She mentally nodded and he smiled.  "I believe she has an acquaintance that can help solemnize your wedding."  
  
"Brother Miguel isn't ordained..." she began.  
  
"But he will know someone who can be trusted, and I have a unique plan that involves him as well," pointed out the Master.  "We will need decoys... someone to marry in another church while you elope elsewhere.  Anyone seeking to prevent your union will only prevent theirs."  
  
"How deceptive," said Isabel.  "But necessary.  We leave it in your hands."  
  
With that, the Master sent them through a passage in one of his bookshelves.  The Doctor waited until he returned.  "How very sneaky of you," she pointed out.  "Not exactly imaginative... I believe there was a David Tennant movie in the twenty first century that did just what you're doing..."  
  
"Where do you think I got the idea?" he asked with a smirk.  "Now, for this to work, I'm going to need Brother Miguel and Donna to masquerade as Ferdinand and Isabel.  I would get Annette, but she is neither ginger nor able to defend herself.  I trust Donna is."  
  
"I'll run it by her," said the Doctor.  "But, she has the final say."  
  
"Can you also talk to Brother Miguel?"  
  
"Of course," she answered.  "But that isn't why I'm here.  The Lord Inquisitor..."  
  
"Knows of us, yes, he said as much right before trying to recruit me.  And when that didn't work he attempted to force me, by both threatening my life here, my wife and then when that failed he tried to force his way into my mind.  My defenses are far better than they were, and they were never weak to begin with," he laughed.  "It was laughable.  I threw his mind out of mine with such force that he was left with a headache.  But, outwardly, we were forced to remain civil.  I imagine he then went to see you.  He is quite taken with you and imagines you by his side as a willing puppet at the end of his strings.  I warned him that you were not anyone to be trifled with, and that to make the mistake of thinking you'd help him was stupid.  I can see he didn't listen."  
  
"He didn't, and he also tried to force his way into my mind.  He learned enough to know who I was, though, right before he got himself thrown out of my mind.  He is not happy, and I'm a bit worried at what his Inquisition can throw at us," she said.  
  
"He'd have to do some tall accusing with some serious proof.  The Spanish Inquisition, unlike others, was rather big on proof and not circumstantial word of mouth," the Master frowned.  "Unless he's changed that too."  
  
"I do not think it would pay to underestimate him."  
  
"I agree."  
  


* * * * * *

  
Sunday came far faster than anyone expected.  Jenny spent her time practising her singing for her solo.  She was surprised when the Abbess Andrea, came to her with a new set of songs.  "What are these?" she asked.  
  
"Wedding chorals for you to practice," answered Andrea with a wink.  "Tell no one, and practice where no one can hear you."  
  
"Yes, Madre," said Jenny.  
  


* * * * * *

  
Miguel walked with Donna into the chapel in one of the small villages just outside of Valladolid.  Donna was unusually quiet.  In fact, she was nervous about leaving the Doctor back in Valladolid with the Master.  
  
Miguel found that not being dressed in his usual robes and instead the normal clothes of a normal man a bit unsettling.  "Are you well, Donna?"  
  
"I'm fine," said Donna.  "I would think you'd be more nervous."  
  
"By far not," he answered.  "I must admit, I am rather honoured... even if the wedding is not real... to be making this walk with you.  I can only hope that the pastoral surroundings are a balm to you."  
  
"It's pretty," she admitted.  
  
"Indeed it is.  I would love to share it with you..." he began, and she looked at him with wide eyes.  "Unless, of course, you'd rather not.  I would understand."  
  
Donna laughed hollowly.  "Miguel, you're wonderful.  But aren't you also sworn to someone else?"  
  
"There are two instances in the Lord's book regarding this... and neither of them state that a man should keep himself unmarried.  Well, I suppose I could..." He took a breath.  "They both regard the care and proper keeping of widows and orphans and that God considers the man that does so before all else good and right.  You are worth that."  
  
Donna was silent for a time, and then she looked down.  "You'd be the fourth man to marry me."  
  
"Fourth?!" he exclaimed.  "I was under the impression that you had been married only twice."  
  
"No, three times too many," she sighed.  "Lance, Lee and Shaun, although Lance didn't quite marry me.  Lee and I had two children, and Shaun and I only one.  I've lost all of them in one way or another.  If there is such a man for me out there that will stay, I regret to say that he may not live for very long... or he will end up lost.  Let's just keep this, platonic, all right?"  
  
Miguel nodded, although he appeared quite saddened by her decision.  "If you so wish... but I fear my life as a monk will forever be filled with the thought of you... and married to you or your friend in the faith... I will live up to my duty to care for you until I can no longer do so."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
The Master and the Doctor sat at opposite ends of the open air chapel that had been set up in his courtyard.  She preferred to sit in the shade, and up on the balcony above, pleading illness but also the desire to not miss mass.  
  
The Master couldn't get away with the same and was in the front with his wife.  All appearances led her to believe he was contented, even if he suffered through the long mass for the sake of appearances and his wife's whim.  The Lord Inquisitor was not in attendance, which made the Doctor breathe easier.  He had likely taken the bait.  
  
She hoped he had taken the bait.  
  
The Doctor sat forward when a young sister stood forward from the choir and the recognition ran through her.  Jenny!  It was Jenny!  The fact that she was safe and unharmed, even if her role in this was puzzling, made the Doctor almost light headed in relief and equally guilty.  Jenny's rescue had been practically set to the back burner due to the paradox in the making and the presence of the Master.  
  
Finally, the main part of the mass ended and banns were read.  With bated breath, Isabel and Ferdinand stood up and then spoke their vows.  
  
No one spoke against the union.  
  
They kissed chastely, and the priest announced them as husband and wife.  
  
Jenny felt it first, and then the Master felt it, and she could see them grasp their heads.  The Doctor wasn't long after as the world seemed to twist, turn and flex.  
  
With an almost audible _pop_ it then righted itself.  The illness that had been plaguing the Doctor lifted.  There were more people present at the mass, and furthermore, they were all now in the proper cathedral instead of the Lord Mayor's courtyard on the estate.  
  
The easy part was over with.  
  
They still had to deal with the Inquisitor... which... without an Inquisition should prove slightly less challenging...  
  


* * * * * *

  
By the time the Lord Inquisitor arrived in the courtyard, the four other Time Lords -- The Master, the Doctor, Donna and Jenny -- were ready for him.  He rode in on his horse, still dressed in the Inquisitorial robes.  He stopped and looked up at the four points of the balcony where they stood surrounding him from above.  
  
By design, they all wore clothes that were the same colour as their individual Chapter... which was ironically all the same and so were red and orange of the Prydon chapter.  The Doctor had gone back to the TARDIS and also retrieved four House flags to drape over the balcony for a proper hearing.  
  
The Master, being the oldest, held a heavy hardwood staff in his hand, which, once the Inquisitor stood in the centre, he brought to a loud, ringing slam on the stone of the balcony.  
  
The Inquisitor stared at the Doctor, seeing her in her colours and the symbol of House Fanyare, often mangled as House Lungbarrow, as her House.  "And so the truth of it comes out," he said, regretfully.  "I did what I had to do."  
  
"You admit to committing yourself to creating a Class One Paradox," called out the Master.  "You have also broken the Laws of Time in that you did so knowingly and wilfully."  
  
"And what of you, Master?" shouted the Inquisitor.  "The Lord Mayor of Valladolid."  
  
"What I did I will pay for, and I will not answer to you."  
  
"His guilt is not being determined during this Tribunal, Valdaglerion of House Paradox.  You claim that you are different that cult, but you have only proved you are the same as they," said the Doctor.  
  
"I see that, Fanyare... bootlickers of Rassilon and the Other."  He sneered.  "At least what we did was to further Gallifrey's glory, not relegate ourselves to an equally plain fate as yours."  
  
"I don't recognize your authority," said the Inquisitor.  
  
"Nevertheless, you will submit to it," said Donna as Jenny held up a remote device.  
  
"We, members of this Tribunal, place you under arrest for breaking the Laws of Time.  You will be judged according to the ways of our people and by the High Council of Time Lords in New Gallifrey.  Have you anything to say?" said the Doctor.  
  
"The Family will break your Council," he sneered.  "This isn't over."  
  
Jenny pressed the button and, to an outside observer, it appears as if a clap of lightening lit up the courtyard.  When the light subsided, the Inquisitor was gone and only a pile of ash remained.  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Master accompanied them back to the TARDIS after Maria held a salon to celebrate Isabel's marriage and the end of the visit from her other honoured guests.  Donna went inside the TARDIS first, eager to be away and back in her normal clothes.  Jenny looked at the Doctor and then the Master, and then with a downcast look, also followed Donna into the TARDIS.  
  
Jenny's quiet was worrisome, but the Doctor didn't immediately head into the TARDIS.  The Master looked at the Police Box and sighed.  "She never changes."  
  
"Did you expect her to?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"In truth, no," he answered.  "Well, I imagine you'd best be off.  Places to be and all that."  
  
There was a long and uncomfortable silence.  "You're almost bearable now," she finally said.  
  
"As are you, but I imagine if we ever run across each other again, we'll be at each others throats."  
  
"Good bye, Enrique," she said.  
  
"Farewell, Doctor."  
  
The Doctor walked back into the TARDIS and the Master watched it fade out of existence.  He walked back to his horse, mounted it and rode back to the road where Antonio waited.  "Still no quail for the lady?"  
  
"Antonio... I think it's best if you hunted for it from now on."


	7. State of Grace

The Doctor walked up to the console, looking at her companions as she did so.  The one that concerned her most was Jenny, who was uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn.  "Jenny?" asked the Doctor gently.  "What's up?"  
  
Jenny shook her head and sat down in one of the chairs.  
  
With a sigh, the Doctor realized she wasn't likely to get much more from her.  "Well, I think we've had more than enough adventure for one day, and I, for one, would like a bit of downtime.  Perhaps some time with old friends... or... ah... I know... Earth.  2014.  San Francisco, California.  I would like to look in on a few someone's there.  I owe someone an answer..." she trailed off.  "And I think the relative quiet should prove beneficial to all of us."  
  
"Before you reconcile with Jack, eh?" asked Donna.  
  
"And as far away from him as I can be until he and I line up on circumstances.  I don't want another situation like River Song and my grandfather when it comes to Jack," answered the Doctor.  
  
The TARDIS landed a short time later, and the three of them walked out into a large park overlooking the bay.  Jenny took a deep breath and the Doctor was delighted to see her bright smile again as she turned.  "Where are we?"  
  
"San Francisco," answered the Doctor.  
  
Jenny rolled her eyes.  "I can see that, but where?"  
  
"Well, judging by the surroundings, I'd say we're in the Presideo."  The Doctor looked around, a slight smile on her face as she leaned her head back to soak up the sun.  "Summer in San Francisco... hot, but lovely, isn't it?"  
  
Jenny nodded.  Donna caught the Doctor's look and moved off to where there were other people wandering around in order to fade into the crowd.  Jenny sighed again and then sat down on a bench.  The Doctor sat down beside her.  "What is it, Jenny?"  
  
"Well, I was in that Abbey for months," she started.  
  
"I am so very sorry, Jenny, we were trying to get a lead in order to find a way in, and then we discovered the paradox," the Doctor sighed.  "I'm sorry, that's no excuse.  I cannot imagine what they put you through."  
  
"It wasn't that bad, really," said Jenny.  "Oh sure, I was expected torture, both mental and physical, but I wasn't expecting kindness.  Unless that is torture on Earth..."  
  
"It's not, I assure you."  
  
"At first, there was a lot of questioning, and yes, there was some torture, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought since I had already confessed and they were already of a mind that I was some feral orphan child with no family and no friends, so they weren't looking for accomplices.  I think it was more a formality... and then the Abbess took me in.  And then it was a different sort of torture..."  
  
"Oh no..."  
  
"... of the boredom kind.  I mean it.  I was fed at regular times, if the food was rather simple, and my room was very spartan but it was clean and I had a bed.  I was allowed out for regular walks and personal reasons..." Jenny was silent for another time.  "I knew that you and Donna were trying to rescue me, but I also knew the chances were remote that you could unless you materialized the TARDIS into the Abbey itself and then that would mean you had to know where I was in the city with so many places they could have taken me... so it would take you awhile."  
  
The Doctor didn't say anything.  Jenny looked over at her and then looked past her in horror.  "Oh no!"  
  
The Doctor turned to look and her eyes widened.  Time slowed to a standstill as she ran, Jenny not two steps behind.  
  
A young woman was pushed out of the way of the car as she fell into the wall, the speeding car so close she could have touched it.  Jenny watched helplessly as the car sped away, not even slowing down.  
  
Donna ran to the side of the street, her hands flying to her mouth as she stared at the sidewalk and road.  Jenny turned in horror.  
  
They may have saved the young woman.  
  
The Doctor wasn't so lucky.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT ONE**

* * * * * * * *

  
Sirens.  
  
At least that's what it sounded like.  She couldn't sense much else and her world seemed concentrated down into that small point.  She wasn't sure where they were either.  They didn't seem close.  Perhaps down the block.  
  
There seemed to be one frantic voice and two calm ones from somewhere above and beside her.  
  
"You can't take her to the hospital.  I mean it!  Just take us back to the park!" shouted Donna.  
  
"Look, lady, I know you're some sort of friend or family member and that we had to take you since there was no one else that knew Doctor Foreman..."  
  
"Her name is Foreman-Campbell... it's hyphenated..." came Donna's sardonic reply.  "Listen, she's not like everyone else, she needs special care and if you'd just let me call them, I could get it."  
  
"Then let us call them and have them meet us at the General," shot back the second paramedic, the one that happened to be driving.  "Now, please, sit back and let us do our jobs.  Any allergies?"  
  
"Aspirin," answered Donna.  
  
The first paramedic wrote it down and then handed over the clipboard.  "Write in her information.  Allergies, medical insurance, anything that they'll need to know."  
  
Donna fumed but settled back into the seat and began to fill out the form.  
  
    Name:  Dr. Susan "the Doctor" Foreman-Campbell      
    Age: ( _ha, good question that..._ ) 37.  
    Gender: Female          
    Blood Type: ( _alien?  Gallifreyan type something... did they even have a blood type?_ )  
    Occupation: ( _some sort of noble in a society that was just coming back..._ )  
            Independent Consultant - contracted by UNIT  
            Scientist  
    Allergies:  ASPIRIN/ASPIRIN DERIVATIVES!  
    Recent medical history:  ( _has a habit of being shot at by other aliens_ )  
  
She handed back the clipboard, her private thoughts not included.  Those she simply left blank.  The paramedic read it over and looked back up at her with a funny look.  "I thought you said she was a doctor?"  
  
"No, I said she was the Doctor," answered Donna.  "A scientific consultant for UNIT, retired.  Anything else is classified."  
  
"Oh," said the paramedic, and then he looked up.  "Wait, she's government?  Fed?"  
  
"I suppose so, but more with the UN," answered Donna, the paramedic supplying the leverage against, hopefully, the hospital.  
  
"What country?"  
  
"Gallifrey," muttered Donna under her breath, but then answered the next part loud enough for them to hear.  "You probably haven't heard of it, but UNIT refers to her as 'Code Nine'."  
  
"I've already called ahead," said the first paramedic, and Donna caught the sudden edge to her voice.  "Don't worry, ma'am, she'll be fine.  Did a tour with UNIT... and I'm quite familiar with that term."  
  


* * * * * *

  
The ambulance pulled into the garage and the paramedics opened the back doors, carefully manoeuvring the gurney onto the cement floor and rolling it into the emergency room.  Unlike it the corny medical dramas there was no running, no yelling.  Just a controlled, brisk and professional calm as a nurse came up, double checked the Doctor's vitals for herself to confirm the paramedic's readings from the site and during the ride.  "Her heart is incredibly fast," she said.  "Blood pressure is strange as well, it's as if there's no low point."  
  
"Second heart," said the second paramedic of the ambulance.  "Listen on the right, you'll hear it."  
  
"Ah, she's one of those," said the nurse.  "All right."  She read the paperwork that Donna had filled out.  "Has the UNIT attache been contacted?"  
  
"On our way over, someone should be meeting us here," answered the first paramedic.  
  
Donna followed, feeling a bit like a third wheel, and was growing more and more alarmed the longer they talked.  The Doctor had always been adamant about never, ever, going to a hospital and now here was his granddaughter... in a hospital.  The doors opened into the actual emergency department and she was relieved to see Jenny; but not so relieved to see the very uniformed military personnel that were practically crawling from every corner.  
  
Especially not the one that had enough ribbons and medals pinned to him that screamed senior officer in the US military.  
  
And it was definitely not UNIT which Donna had met before.  UNIT wore red berets and black uniforms, with the officers in army green.  There was not a single beret in sight.  These looked US Army.  
  
A man in a black suit came up to the general -- at least that's what Donna assumed he was.  She wasn't sure about American uniforms or what denoted rank beyond the very, very basics that her own grandfather had taught her.  But he had to be at least that.  
  
The Doctor was wheeled into a trauma room and it was at this point that Donna was barred from entering.  "I'm sorry gentlemen and ladies, no one past this point," said the head nurse.  
  
"But you are allowing one of our own doctors to see to the Doctor, am I correct?" asked the Man in Black.  
  
"Is he here yet?" asked the nurse.  
  
"She will be, yes... and her name is Dr. Grace Holloway."  The man noted the nurse's eyes widen.  "Ah, I see you're familiar with her."  
  
"Sir, I used to work with her back when she was the head of our cardiology department... but that was almost fifteen years ago."  The nurse looked from Jenny and Donna and back to the Man in Black again.  "We haven't seen her since."  
  
"Well, she's been working with us now," he answered, and when the nurse left to do her job, he turned back to Jenny and Donna.  "And you must be Donna Noble and Jenny Smith.  It's a pleasure, my name is Allen Shapiro and I work for the CIA... the ah, human CIA, not the Gallifreyan."  
  
Donna lifted a brow.  "You know about that?"  
  
"A bit hard to miss New Gallifrey in Antarctica," he quipped back.  "And I worked with the Lady Autumn quite closely during that mess.  Don't worry, we're well acquainted and... I would like to say friends."  The General beside him cleared his throat.  "Sorry about that.  Donna, Jenny, this is General David Beckerton with the US Army.  He's handling the security and investigation."  
  
"And if I might be allowed to do my job, Agent Shapiro," began the General as he looked over to the two women.  "What did happen to cause this?"  
  
"I saw this woman on the sidewalk, she was on her cell phone," said Jenny.  "She was safely on the sidewalk, not about to cross or anything like that.  The car came from around the corner, and then he gunned the engine and jumped the curb... he meant to do it... he was going to kill that woman... I alerted the Doctor and she took off running.  It all happened so fast after that..."  
  
"She pushed the young woman out of the way, I presume?" asked the General.  
  
"Yeah, she did... but she didn't get out of the path of the car.  There wasn't space or time.  The car took her in the knees, and she flew up onto the hood and rolled over the roof and then hit the pavement..." By this point, Jenny had tears running freely down her face.  "I wasn't fast enough to help..."  
  
"It's not your fault," Donna said as she pulled Jenny into a hug and let the younger woman sob freely into her shoulder.  "Not your fault."  
  
"I was too slow... I should have been the faster one... if not for that, she'd still be okay..."  
  
"Don't you think that for one second.  She wouldn't want this all on your shoulders."  Donna held Jenny closer.  "This is not your fault."  
  
General Beckerton and Agent Shapiro looked a bit uncomfortable, but they allowed the moment between the two women.  Beckerton was grim.  "Unfortunately, this isn't an isolated incident," said Shapiro.  "Not if the news is halfway correct."  
  
"I'll liaise with the local authorities and have our proper agency handle this."  
  
"You mean like NCIS?" asked Donna.  
  
"NCIS is Navy, we have our own agency and they'll take it from here."  Beckerton took a breath.  "When she is stable enough, I'd rather her transferred to our own base."  
  
"The CIA can handle that, General.  We still have a nominal presence in the Presidio," answered Shapiro.  "Somehow I think making these ladies travel over fifty miles to the closest active base with any sort of medical facility is a bit of overkill when we have a perfectly good office here."  
  
Beckerton's eyes thinned slightly at this.  "I'm not entirely sure if you have jurisdiction."  
  
"Actually, I'm not sure you do either," said Shapiro.  "Actually, I'm quite certain of it... she's UN, not US Army and we're more equipped to liaise.  I'll let you know how things go."  
  
Beckerton drew himself up to his full height and was about to argue when Shapiro pointed out, "General... you have other things on your plate.  Don't add this complication.  I swear to you I will keep you updated and you can keep your people here.  God knows, I'll need the extra, and visible, support.  Delegate, for heaven's sake."  
  
The General backed down, but only barely and only because Shapiro offered him an out that didn't embarrass him.  With a curt nod, he said, "Very well, you have a point, old friend.  Don't cut me out of the loop for my own good, though."  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Shapiro as he shook the other man's hand.  
  
Once half of the army left with the General, Shapiro led the two women to what was known as the quiet room.  He guided Jenny to sit with a gentle hand.  "Jenny... can I call you Jenny?"  
  
She nodded.  "Call me Allen.  I'm sure she doesn't blame you and she definitely wouldn't want you to blame yourself.  And, as someone who's been around Time Lords, she's tough and she'll pull through.  Now, can you walk me through every single thing you saw when she was hit?"  
  
Donna had to hand it to Shapiro.  He was a master when it came to handling people and getting the information he needed.  Jenny nodded and was about to open her mouth when Shapiro shook his head.  "No, I mean at the scene.  Show me what happened.  Walk me through it.  Can you do that for me?"  
  
Jenny stiffened up, but then took a deep breath.  "Yes, I can do that."  
  
"Great," said Shapiro.  "That's great."  
  
"You remind me of my Dad."  
  
"Oh?" asked Shapiro, his eyebrows lifting.  
  
"She's right on that count, although you're not as manic," added Donna.  
  
"Who's your father?"  
  
"The Doctor was."  
  
"I thought the woman in the ER was..." He looked from one to the other and when Donna shook her head.  "I don't get it."  
  
"Susan is the Doctor's granddaughter, and the first one to travel with him.  That Doctor is long dead and buried.  Susan took his name as a legacy, and she now calls herself the Doctor.  In essence, she is the Doctor now," answered Donna.  
  
"Oh..." said Shapiro.  "And I remind you of the original?  I'm honoured."  
  
"You have his touch when the cards are down," said Donna.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT TWO**

* * * * * * * *

  
Grace Holloway arrived at the hospital in only thirty minutes.  She would have been there sooner but she hadn't been on call and furthermore she had been in the middle of something.  Grace smoothed her hair and walked into the ER, noting the amount of government all over the place, and the two black suited guards outside the trauma room.  With a blink, she recognized her old nursing staff from before she resigned in 1999.  
  
She couldn't believe it had already been sixteen years since she had that chaotic night involving the Master and the Doctor.  
  
Before her life changed forever.  
  


* * * * * *

  
_January 3rd, 2000  
San Francisco_  
  
There was an insistent knocking on her door.  It was barely half past seven and why in God's name would someone be trying to break down her door?  
  
She got up, threw on a robe to cover her dignity and to prevent freezing to death from the brisk wind chill and ran to the door.  Her stomach fell into her shoes at the amount of police cars, and the SWAT van.  
  
Evidently the events not three days before had finally caught up with her.  
  
No point in delaying the inevitable... Grace opened the door just as the officer was about to knock again.  He blinked, clearly not expecting her to be there and also not armed, or even trying to run.  "Yes?" she asked.  
  
"Dr. Grace Holloway?" asked the officer.  
  
"That's me," she answered.  "Is there a problem?"  
  
 _Innocent.  Good.  Play like you're confused, Grace... maybe they'll think it a case of mistaken identity or a good lawyer can plead that_... she thought to herself, even as she was internally banging her head against the wall.  _Prison time for assaulting an officer, but hey, not a bad trade-off... it's better than the whole of the Earth being destroyed_...  
  
The officer took a breath.  "Ma'am, are you aware of the events of December 31st, 1999?"  
  
"Er... New Year's?" she asked.  
  
He blinked, but moved ahead.  "Ma'am, perhaps you should accompany me to the station."  
  
"Of course, can I get dressed first?" she asked.  
  
He turned to look at others, and a female officer came up.  "So long as you don't mind the escort," he said as the female officer stood on her stoop.  
  
"Of course not..." Grace was a bit nervous.  "Is there... is there someone accosting people in our neighbourhood?"  
  
"I...uh... no, ma'am, not that we're aware of," the other answered.  "Why, have you heard anything?"  
  
"No, otherwise I wouldn't be alone," she answered honestly.  _Unless you count the time travelling alien_ s...  "Well, come on, I'll be just a moment.  Come inside."  
  
The two officers stepped inside, with the male standing just inside the door and looking around uncertainly.  He noted the missing furniture.  "Moving?" he asked.  
  
"No," called Grace from her room.  "My boyfriend left me and took everything he wanted with him."  
  
The female one had the grace to look away.  "I'm sorry, ma'am," she said quietly.  
  
"Don't be, every time my on call nights ruined our dates -- why he only ever booked them on those nights when I had nights when I wasn't on call is beyond me -- he would call me while in surgery and threaten to leave.  He finally did, and while I was upset at first, quite frankly good riddance," said Grace as she finally came out fully dressed.  "There... shall we go then?"  
  
The female officer led her out of the room and the male officer opened the door for them, much like a gentlemen would.  She was led out, without cuffs as they appeared to maintaining a respectful front, and escorted to a car where the male officer opened the door and allowed her to get in under her own power.  If not for the flashing lights and the uniforms, it would have almost been like getting into a limo.  
  
The drive was short and neither her nor the officer was in a talking mood so she simply watched traffic as they drove.  When they arrived in the garage the officer opened the door and gave her a helping hand out.  Again, she was reminded of a limo service.  He even guided her gently by the arm through the police station and into a room where officers dressed in business casual 'plain clothes' waited.  She sat at the table in the obvious interrogation room and waited for the door to close.  
  
For a long moment it was just her at that one plain clothes officer.  Finally, she couldn't take the silence anymore.  "What is going on?" she asked.  "I feel like I'm either been identified as a possible witness or, worse, a suspect in something."  
  
He smiled.  "The latter, unfortunately."  
  
"Am I under arrest?" she asked.  "Because if I am, my Miranda rights were sorely broken... much as I appreciate the respect you have all been treating me with."  
  
"No, you're not under arrest," he sighed.  "And, according to this, you've been more confused than anything.  I'll be frank.  You've been identified as a possible suspect in the assault of a police officer as well as grand theft auto and theft of government property."  
  
Grace gasped.  "Good heavens... I thought it was something less than that."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Well, I thought maybe I had been identified for public intoxication, but nothing like this..." she said.  "Not that I was drinking that night.  I wasn't."  
  
"Did you go anywhere?"  
  
"A walk in the park across from my home, and then back to bed.  My boyfriend had just left me.  Oh, I had to call an ambulance for an unfortunate that wound up on my doorstep... but that's as exciting as it got that night," she answered.  
  
"I... see..." he said.  "... And there was nothing else?"  
  
"No."  
  
"When did the ambulance arrive?"  
  
"Around half past ten," she answered.  "Bruce... a paramedic friend of mine... and a young man, I think he was new, arrived with an ambulance and took the man I found on my doorstep to the hospital."  
  
"Bruce?" asked the officer.  "You mean this man?"  
  
The officer showed her a picture of the body of Bruce.  
  
"Yes!" cried Grace.  "Yes, that's him. You don't think he was involved, do you?"  
  
"I can't answer that until we have more information.  Well, Dr. Holloway, it appears that your explanation checks out for now."  He stood up and motioned for her to stand as well.  "What bothers me though is why your prints showed up on the officer's gun..."  
  
"I'd have to say that creeps me out too."  
  
"Did you go with the ambulance?"  
  
"No, I did not," she answered.  "I stayed at home."  
  
"Then you have no idea where or how we could find Bruce?"  
  
"No, sorry... I resigned earlier that same day and the only contact I've ever had with him was when I was working at the General."  She shrugged.  "I wish I could help you more."  
  
"Well, you've helped us enough that I think I know how we're proceeding with our investigation.  Do you have anyone you could call to take you home, or can I offer you a lift?" he asked.  
  
"That'd be appreciated," she answered.  
  
They walked out of the room and two minutes later, an older man dressed in a green uniform with a red beret strapped into the shoulder straps and two others walked in.  "Dr. Grace Holloway?" he asked.  
  
For the second time that day, Grace found her stomach somewhere in her shoes.  "Who are you?" asked the officer.  
  
"Brigadier General Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart of the United Nations Intelligence Task Force."  
  
For a long moment Grace had no idea what to make of this.  It was clear that neither did the police.  "What jurisdiction to you have here?" asked the detective finally.  
  
"Madam, I have a very good idea that you may have been in contact with a person by the name of 'the Doctor'.  No other name..." He explained.  "I also know that this isn't the place to discuss it."  
  
"Am I under arrest?" asked Grace for the second time this morning, suddenly wishing she had simply left the stupid alien alone and left him to his own devices.  
  
"By far not!  The Doctor worked for us before he, ah, retired," answered the Brigadier  "He's also a good close friend of mine and fellow at arms, so to speak."  
  
Grace blinked in surprise, now extremely intrigued.  "I may have met him a few nights ago... and then called an ambulance for him at about half past ten."  
  
The detective groaned, suddenly sensing his investigation was taking a turn that he didn't appreciate.  "Brigadier General, I have reason to believe he is a person of interest in a case..."  
  
The Brig was suddenly no longer interested.  "I'll have my people contact yours, then."  He turned to Grace.  "Perhaps we should take this somewhere else and you can walk me through it."  
  
She was taken by the arm again and led out to a black car with blacked out windows.  The driver of that car opened the door until she and the Brig were seated within and then the door shut her inside and away from view.  She stared across the limo seat at the other passenger.  "Dr. Grace Holloway, if you only knew how rare you are in this world you would not be so much like a bird caught in a cage," he finally said.  
  
"I only know that because of one chance meeting my life has gone completely sideways."  
  
He chuckled.  "I would think it's actually just starting."  
  
She leaned back in the seat.  "Oh really?"  
  
"Quite.  I am here to offer you something, and as I understand it, you are in the position to accept."  He took a breath and then handed over a folder.  "Go ahead, open it."  
  
She did and she looked over the pictures in shock.  It was the Doctor, in London, standing with the very man she now shared a car with.  They appeared to be quite friendly with each other, despite the chaotic surroundings.  "Those were taken in 1996," he answered before she even asked.  "And yes, in London.  He mentioned you."  
  
"In 1996?" she asked.  
  
"I think we both know that life around the Doctor isn't as linear as it ought to be," he pointed out.  "Never is.  Keep looking through those pictures."  
  
She did, and was surprised to see the face of the man that had originally arrived in her surgery theatre.  She gasped to see him now, seeing a mischievous twinkle in the eye.  And then the parade of faces started.  There was a young man in a cricket uniform, a man with wild curly hair and a really long scarf and a wide grin... and then an older man with puffy white hair wearing dark green velvet and a ruffled shirt.  
  
It was the eyes that gave him away as being the same man now that she knew what to look for.  They may have always been a different colour, although usually grey blue, but it was always the look in them.  People always said that the eyes were the windows to the soul and with the Doctor that much was very true.  She looked back up at the Brigadier and asked, "How many times as he done this?"  
  
"So you did run across him."  
  
"I... I did," she finally admitted.  "I helped him."  
  
"Good," said the Brigadier, leaning close.  "Work for us and maybe you just might run across him again."  
  


* * * * * *

  
Grace walked into the trauma room, her former nursing staff somewhat confused to see her again.  There were some new faces and some of the old had since moved on to other things.  The middle aged man in the black suit that came out of the quiet room with two other women threw her for a moment.  "Ah, Dr. Holloway..." The man reached for her hand to shake it, and she did so.  "My name is Agent Allen Shapiro with the Central Intelligence Agency."  
  
"The CIA?" asked Grace.  
  
"Yes, well, the patient is a rather special one requiring a special touch," he answered.  "I believe you're familiar with a person by the name of the Doctor."  
  
It would figure that here, in this place, that her past would finally catch up with her.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT THREE**

* * * * * * * *

  
Grace held the clipboard loosely in her fingers.  The Doctor.  Sixteen years ago on New Year's Eve a funny little man had been wheeled into her surgical theatre with a badly fibrillating heart after being rushed there from being hit multiple times in a shooting in Chinatown.  
  
At least, they had thought it was a fibrillating heart, and her nursing staff and other doctors had all maintained that the x-rays clearly showing two hearts had been a double exposure... a mistake... but after she killed him by accident she knew it hadn't been a mistake.  
  
 _"I'm not like you... I'm not human..."_  
  
The voice seemed to call out from the past.  She swallowed.  "What's the patient's condition?" she asked.  
  
When all else failed, go back to business.  _You're a doctor_ , she told herself sharply.  _Failing all else, set what's broken and sooth the pain_.  
  
"She was hit by a car," said the nurse, recognizing Grace's move into the professional.  "Shattered tibia, fibula cracked, and numerous cracked ribs.  Spinal involvement in the third vertebrae, but it's not as bad as we feared.  Head trauma, but it looked worse than it was.  Bloody as hell, needed six stitches, but closed cleanly.  Multiple contusions and bruises.  Shoulder displacement and cracked femur.  Mostly the left side, but some bruises on the right."  
  
Grace looked over everything.  "Internal?"  
  
"Some rigidity on the left side, but so far everything clean in her testing.  We've sent for a liaison from New Gallifrey as well as more information on how to handle her unique physiology."  
  
It was at this point that Grace moved the curtain away to look at her patient.  Given the general short list of injuries, the young woman looked far worse that she actually was.  She was still on the back stabilizer with a neck brace, but other than that she had been cleaned up and a blanket put over her for comfort.  The lights had been lowered as well.  It appeared as if she were sleeping.  Grace read the forms.  
  
    Name:  Dr. Susan "the Doctor" Foreman-Campbell      
    Age: 37  
    Gender: Female          
    Blood Type:   
    Occupation:    Independent Consultant - contracted by UNIT  
            Scientist  
    Allergies:  ASPIRIN/ASPIRIN DERIVATIVES!  
    Recent medical history:  
  
Grace looked up at the woman again.  The Doctor?  She couldn't be!  And then she remembered back.  
  


* * * * * *

_  
"Why can't you come back as an alien like he did?"  
  
"Well, I can, but it has to be at the point of death and when I regenerate.  I never been much good at controlling it."_   
  


* * * * * *

  
Grace walked into the room and double-checked everything just as the woman's eyes opened.  "Hello, my name is Dr. Grace Holloway.  I'm a doctor in charge of your care.  You're at the San Francisco General Hospital.  Do you understand what I'm telling you?"  
  
"Yes," came the whispered response.  "Grace... Grace... wait... December 31st, 1999... the TARDIS..."  There was a pained chuckle.  "We have to stop meeting like this."  
  
"No kidding," answered Grace, confirming it her mind.  "At least you remember who you are this time."  
  
"Indeed... where is... Jenny and Donna?"  
  
Grace looked up and over at the nurse.  "They're in the quiet room with that Shapiro fellow from the CIA."  
  
Grace not only could feel the Doctor tense up at the mention of the CIA, but also hear the heart monitor jump.  "Relax.  He appears to be a friend.  He called me in.  Sorry I'm late."  
  
"You... don't work... here anymore?"  
  
Grace shook her head.  "No, I work for UNIT now."  
  
Not only did the heart monitor relax, so did the Doctor.  "UNIT... never... fails..."  
  
"I was recruited by Sir Alistair."  Grace moved over so that only the nurse would hear.  "20cc of morphine.  She's still in a lot of pain and according to this, she hasn't been given anything since the 5cc in the ambulance."  
  
The nurse nodded and moved out to retrieve it while Grace continued to check over the Doctor.  "How... bad?"  
  
"Not as bad as it looks, but bad enough.  From the police report, you should be dead.  You're a tough nut to crack, Doctor."  Grace nodded as the nurse came back in, confirmed both the drug with Grace by showing her the bottle, and then the dosage as she used the syringe to draw out the necessary amount.  "Doctor, be honest.  Scale of one to ten... how bad is the pain?"  
  
"Comes and goes in waves," she answered.  "Can't catch my breath, something tells me my ribs are broken, but I can't feel it, and then I can.  Is my neck broken?"  
  
The nurse administered the morphine into the IV line while Grace ran her fingers through the Doctor's hair gently.  "Not broken, but I won't lie - there was some spinal involvement and some swelling, but nothing permanent.  You can... good night, Doctor."  Grace patted the uninjured shoulder as the Doctor's features relaxed into sleep as the sedation hit her system.  "Keep her under.  Level three analgesic sedation; not quite a drug induced coma.  Her body needs the rest to heal.  I'll tell her friends but have her moved into an ICU unit."  
  
"Yes, Dr. Holloway..." The nurse moved away and then turned back.  "Grace, it's good to have you back."  
  
Grace smiled as she walked past the nurse, her head high.  It felt as if she had been vindicated.  While it hadn't been public knowledge the fact that she had 'got lost' in the cardiovascular system of a patient and then had the patient die on the table had circulated around the medical establishment.  Those who had treated the mysterious "John Smith" had seen the double exposure that wasn't double exposed.  
  
When the Gallifreyans had arrived in the skies and their general physiology released, just in case, it was as if the entire small community that had seen her as a failure saw her in a different light.  She knew she had a Gallifreyan on her table as he had told her so, but the others hadn't until that moment the information had arrived.  
  
Now, when they ran across her in the same cafes, they would always whisper, "Do you think that your John Doe was one of those?"  
  
She'd always reply, "Maybe."  
  
Her being here and the Gallifreyan at the same time, plus with her identification screaming UN affiliation now confirmed it in their eyes.  The doubts and whispers behind her back that called her skills into question because of her emotional baggage at the time the incident happened had trailed her until now.  
  
She walked over to the quiet room and looked in on the two women and the CIA agent who now hovered just outside the door.  "Dr. Holloway, this is Donna Noble and Jenny Smith."  He motioned to Grace.  "Ladies, this is Dr. Grace Holloway... an expert in xenobiology and xenomedicine."  
  
"You work on aliens."  There was a suspicious sniff to the way the older woman, Donna, said it.  
  
"To keep them alive, yes," answered Grace.  "My first alien patient was the Gallifreyan Time Lord known only as the Doctor... and unfortunately I lost him on the table.  I swore I wouldn't let that happen again, and thankfully... after he regenerated... he was willing to give me that chance."  
  
"You knew my Dad?" blurted out the younger woman, Jenny.  
  
"Seems everyone here did... he was your father?  You're a lucky girl, then," said Grace, smiling.  
  
"How is she?" asked Donna.  
  
"Better than she looks, but still needs rest and time off her feet.  We've sedated her and put her into a medically induced coma to help her rest and heal."  Grace took a breath and held up a hand to forestall any questions.  "She needs it and I learned that from the Doctor.  Sleep is the best healer, whether human or Gallifreyan... and she's sore and in pain.  We've alleviated that so she can sleep it all off."  
  
"How bad is she?" asked Jenny quietly.  
  
"I won't lie, she'll need awhile to recover.  Going off of Gallifreyan recovery times being slightly quicker than human, I would say at least six or seven months including physical therapy.  Her left leg is broken in multiple places, as was her left arm, and there's a dislocation there.  She has multiple cracked ribs..." Grace took a breath.  "And there was some spinal involvement in her neck."  
  
"Oh my God, no," breathed Jenny and Donna pulled her into a hug.  
  
"But it's not broken, just... to make it simple, sprained and a bit swollen.  She'll be fine and likely regain full use with little to no side effects other than some stiffness in her limbs but sensitivity should return to normal in a few weeks," finished Grace to reassure them quickly.  "There was some concern for internal injuries, but so far they were unfounded.  She's very bruised everywhere and she has a large cut on her forehead that was just messy to clean up and stitch, but thankfully no head injury.  With some time, as I said, she'll make a full recovery.  My question is about the actual accident."  
  
"Jenny will be walking me through it at the site, and I will be turning her testimony over to the local authorities as a complete report.  It's not really a CIA jurisdiction, although I will be keeping a particularly personal close eye on the subject," answered Shapiro.  "But, from what I can see so far it's that same sick fuck that has been targeting and running down young women all over the city."  
  
"You mean this isn't an isolated problem?" asked Donna, her voice raising. "That some sick wacko has been targeting people to run over?!"  
  
Jenny turned around, her eyes red rimmed from tears.  "Tell us the truth."  
  
"For the past few months to a few years, it's the same M-O," explained Shapiro.  "The cars are stolen, later abandoned and well cleaned of evidence to track the driver down.  He, or she, picks areas known for the ability to get some speed up -- the driver means to kill and sometimes he succeeds -- and then speed away after committing the crime.  Enough traffic to mix in until he hits his intended victim, and then not so much that he can't get away.  Areas that a car can vanish quickly around a few corners... and then abandon and walk away without so much as a witness."  
  
"Son of a..." breathed Donna.  
  
"Furthermore, the victims are always in their twenties, or appear to be, blonde and usually busy on a cell phone or other electronic device at the time of the strike," said Shapiro.  "He targets them in particular."  
  
Jenny turned around fully to face Shapiro.  "I have an idea."  
  
"No, Jenny... no, the Doctor wouldn't want you to do this," started Donna.  
  
"I want to!  If not... I don't care if she doesn't blame me or not... I blame me."  Jenny looked at Shapiro.  "Set me up for a trap... it works for fraud.  We'll use entrapment to catch him.  We preset the net and when he goes for me, we take him down."  
  
He compressed his lips into a thin line.  "Are you sure about this?"  
  
"You said he goes for the young, blonde, busy and distracted professional, right?" said Jenny.  "I'm young, I'm blonde, and I'm a whole lot tougher than I look.  Dress me up as his perfect target and then set me up in one of his favourite target neighbourhoods to go through a daily routine where I appear to be exactly what he wants.  That way when the Doctor is out of here I can look her in the face and tell her I caught this son of a bitch... not just for her but also for all those who can be saved."  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT FOUR**

* * * * * * * *

  
Words were being thrown around that the barely aware Time Lord just barely understood.  She caught someone say something about an ICU, and a level three analgesic sedation for a medical coma which was then changed to a level two.  In her haze, she recognized the latter meaning more of a twilight version of sedation meant for medical procedures such as setting bones and other minor surgeries.  
  
She wondered who would need such intervention, until she realized that it was her.  
  
 _What happened?_ she wondered and tried to remember, but things were much too hazy.  
  
The Doctor woke fully hours later, aware of the time difference as acutely as she was aware of the pain she was in.  She didn't remember anything.  
  
Well, not everything.  It was easier to say she didn't remember why she was currently in a hospital bed, but everything else was perfectly clear.  The last thing she remembered was talking to Jenny in that park, enjoying a sunny day in San Francisco  Moments later, a nurse came in and looked down.  The woman's face was kindly, and smiling -- but clearly concerned.  "Dr. Foreman-Campbell?" she asked.  "Susan?"  
  
The Doctor looked up at her and blinked, trying to talk through the mask, but the nurse put a gentle hand on the shoulder that wasn't screaming in pain.  "Don't try to talk.  You're in the San Francisco General Hospital.  My name is Kelly.  You've been in an accident but you're going to be fine.  You woke up sooner than we thought you would, and that's a great sign... however, I imagine you're in quite a bit of pain.  Just blink twice for yes, once for no, okay?"  
  
The Doctor blinked twice, more than happy to not have to strain to talk.  Her chest, legs, arms... everything hurt.  "Are you in pain?"  
  
She blinked twice emphatically, almost mentally screaming the Yes!  
  
The nurse moved away, and then came back with a needle and bottle of what was likely painkiller.  "Okay, you'll probably feel sleepy.  Don't fight it; you do need plenty of rest."  Kelly fiddled with something above her line of sight, and the pain almost immediately began to lessen.  "Better now?"  
  
The Doctor blinked twice again, and then her eyelids felt leaden.  The nurse patted her uninjured arm, but stayed until things faded again.  Her last coherent thought was _Jenny_...  
  


* * * * * *

  
Jenny was midway through walking Shapiro through the accident when she nearly doubled over in pain.  She looked over and saw that Donna was also leaning heavily against the wall.  
  
It faded, and she heard the whispered, _Jenny_... before the pain and the contact was entirely lost.  
  
Shapiro held up Jenny and looked from one to the other.  "What is it?"  
  
"I think the Doctor woke up," said Jenny, going a bit green at the broadcast pain.  "She's definitely feeling the hit... or at least she was."  
  
"They must have put her back under," said Donna.  "It faded out like that... like she meant to keep it open but everything just hazed out on her end."  
  
"Do you think she's all right?" asked Shapiro in concern.  
  
Donna nodded.  "I think so... Grace would have called us if she thought that we needed to be there.  
  
"All right, back to the matter at hand.  When you got here, what did you see?" asked Shapiro.  
  
Jenny pointed up the street and uphill.  "He came around that corner up there and, at first, he seemed to be going normal traffic speed.  And then, once the traffic cleared enough... and he had a clear line of sight, the car started rolling.  It was almost as if he simply stopped using the brake and was letting gravity take over..."  She walked to the spot where it was still cordoned off and she and Shapiro moved under the tape.  "The Doctor ran this way, and Donna... could you stand there and face down the hill?"  Donna did as Jenny asked, and Jenny pushed Donna lightly, but enough to move her by two steps.  "The Doctor pushed the other woman like that, but because she wasn't expecting it, she ended up in the wall.  The Doctor was where I am, and just to this side to where the woman was on the sidewalk.  He would have clipped the other woman and possibly severely injured her, but not killed her.  He didn't have enough of a line... she moved to the side to sidestep that grate there and I guess he didn't expect that... but the Doctor was right on it and she..."  Jenny took a steadying breath.  "She had no chance of getting out of the way... she was square in the middle of the hood and radiator."  
  
Shapiro nodded, the picture clearer in his mind as the police lieutenant wrote everything down.  The officer then asked, "What happened next?"  
  
"The car drove that way, clearly trying to get away from the area.  He never even slowed down," answered Jenny.  "He turned that corner there and that was the last I saw of him.  It was clear that he meant to hit the woman... he aimed right for her."  
  
"And you say the Doctor ran all the way from that park there to here in the span of what?" the officer seemed puzzled.  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant, but you have your answers," said Shapiro.  
  
"But she couldn't have been here that fast, not even an Olympic class sprinter could have made that run!" he insisted.  
  
"Are you so certain?" asked Shapiro, lifting a brow.  "The Doctor is well known for her regimen in fitness... particularly in running.  I think she could have... and I think you sell our Olympic team a bit short."  
  
The officer grumbled, but left it be.  "Now, Jenny has offered to be bait to catch this fellow."  Shapiro put his hand on Jenny's shoulder.  "I think she's on to something and she's right in what the suspect has been targeting."  
  
"Risky," pointed out the officer, his mind now onto another track.  "Are you sure about this?"  
  
"More than anything in my life," she answered.  
  


* * * * * *

  
Grace walked in and read the latest reports.  The Doctor waking so quickly was not all that surprising, and neither was the amount it took to put her back under.  She slept peacefully now, the sedation and painkillers only enough to make her sleepy but not actually enough to put her to sleep.  It was only enough to keep her comfortable until the worst was over.  
  
She sat down and took a breath.  
  
Grace blinked her eyes for what seemed a moment later to see a set of dark, pain filled, eyes that were also dancing with amusement.  "Oh my God, I fell asleep!" exclaimed Grace as she looked outside to the darkening horizon.  "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Sore," came the whispered reply.  "Not as bad as earlier."  
  
"Good, good... that means you're recovering," said Grace.  "We can back off on your medication, but you've still a long way to go."  
  
"When can I get out of here?"  
  
"What, tired of my hospitality already, Doctor?" asked Grace, with an amused chuckle.  
  
"Remember the last time I was here?" asked the Doctor incredulously.  "I regenerated in your morgue."  
  
"You woke up this time, no regenerating on my watch," said Grace as she leaned forward.  "How's the pain."  
  
"Manageable," answered the Doctor.  "Trying to drug me senseless already?"  
  
"Oh!  You're so annoying when you're laid up."  Grace threw up her hands in the air.  "No, I'm just concerned you'll push yourself too far too fast."  
  
There was a companionable silence then, but Grace knew it was because the Doctor was gathering her strength and breath for another round.  She looked out the window another time, and when she turned back she was surprised to note that the Doctor had fallen back to sleep again.  Grace checked to make sure it was truly sleep, and the Doctor grumbled a bit at being disturbed.  With a smile, Grace sat back down and watched the Doctor sleep.  It was a good sign that the Doctor could rest with minimal pain management -- it meant that she wasn't in terrible pain and also meant she was healing, considering her reflex response all came up as normal.  
  
The normal reflexes meant the spinal involvement was stabilizing and no more than a serious sprain and the swelling was subsiding and allowing normal function to return.  With normal feeling back, and the pain not so bad as it had been, also meant the injuries were healing, both internally and externally.  The Doctor still had a long road of recovery ahead of her, but at least the outlook looked good.  
  
This was only a short term setback in the extremely long life of a Time Lord.  
  


* * * * * *

  
The driver watched the lovely young woman cross the street, only stopping once she was on the other side to text someone.  She was young, only perhaps in her early twenties at most, her long blonde hair that was naturally sun bleached -- it was easy to see she was natural.  The roots were too pale.  She wore a lovely, if modest, sundress and wore a cute set of leather flat heeled sandals in almost a roman style.  
  
As lovely as she was to look at, she was as distracted as all the others and the wheels itched to meet her acquaintance.  
  
He let the wheels roll, and then, only when he could see that he had a clear run, did he hit the gas and accelerate.  
  
She was right in between his headlights and he was in the middle of feeling the rush that came from a successful hit... but then he realized that there had been no crash.  He continued on, and looked in the rear view.  She stood well out of the way and the distracted look was gone as she was altogether too alert and taking his picture, on a headset with another.  
  
In a sudden panic, he drove away, trying to disappear into traffic when a black SUV took him in the driver's side door.  
  
In a daze, he tried to open the door to the passenger side and escape, but the SUV pulled away.  Seconds later the door on the driver's side opened, and he was pulled out of the car.  A gun was aimed at his head and a black suited middle aged man touched his earpiece with another hand.  "This is Shapiro.  We got him.  Good work, Jenny."  
  


* * * * * *

  
A few days later, the Doctor sat with her leg propped up on a leather upholstered footstool, and her legs under an afghan while drinking tea in Grace's den.  She could hear voices upstairs, and knew they were trying to give her some peace and quiet.  However, the man she had been introduced to, Agent Allen Shapiro, sat down beside her with his own cup.  "I didn't peg you as a tea drinker, Agent Shapiro."  
  
"Please, it's Allen," he said.  "And it's not tea -- it's coffee.  You look a hell of a lot better than you did in the ER."  
  
"I understand it was you who called Dr. Holloway."  
  
Shapiro made a dismissive gesture with his hand.  "I was only doing my job."  
  
"Job or not, your efforts are appreciated," said the Doctor as she leaned back in the couch, and Shapiro looked over in concern.  "I'm fine, just a bit tired.  I think I might close my eyes for a few minutes."  
  
"Of course, I'll sit here with you... unless you'd prefer to be alone."  He took a sip of his coffee.  "You remind me of Autumn, you know."  
  
"You know her?" asked the Doctor, her head coming up from surprise.  
  
"Yes, quite... I was involved in that affair right after you took office as the new Lord President of the Time Lords.  We didn't meet each other, but I was there.  Rough patch, that was," he said.  "I'm glad that's over and we can move forward together."  
  
"As am I, Allen, as am I."


	8. Interlude: A Canadian Red Nose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes Grace to see an old friend in Quebec City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I realize this is a Christmas story. It was meant to be posted for Christmas and, oh, I'm only six months overdue... It's a bit late for a special. Oops...

Grace Holloway usually didn't have a reason to decorate her house for the holidays.  However, she had a surprise guest that had been in her home for nearly three months.  
  
She wasn't complaining... the Doctor was a very rare guest indeed.  So rare that the last time she had seen him was for New Year's when the whole world had celebrated the new millenium, and now... fifteen or so years later the Doctor had returned in almost the same way he had the first time...  
  
... In the back of an ambulance.  
  
"You know what we should do," said the Doctor, out of the blue one day.  "Celebrate the holiday where you would get snow... real snow."  
  
"Aspen?" asked Grace.  
  
For a moment, the Doctor looked confused and then waved it off.  "I was thinking more Canada, specifically Quebec City.  A very beautiful city this time of year... with European style castles and French charm.  All lit up for the holidays... yes... it'd be beautiful," she answered.  
  
"Canada?" asked Grace incredulously.  "What, now?"  
  
"Oh, no, when I'm able to fly the TARDIS again.  Celebrating here is fine for this year..."  
  
Which they did... and, using the Doctor's uncanny ability to find anyone using the TARDIS databanks, Grace managed to even find Chang Lee.  
  
Ironically, he lived in Quebec City.  "So, you want to celebrate Christmas here?" he asked, surprised.  
  
"Yes, Lee, I do!" answered the Doctor brightly.  
  
"Grace said you weren't in any shape to fly the TARDIS..."  
  
"Time ship, Lee, time ship," chided the Doctor gently.  "We'll be there in an hour!"  
  
The Doctor hung up the phone, and Grace sighed.  "An hour?"  
  
With a wink, the Doctor answered, "He'll feel the hour."  She leaned back.  "We won't.  In essence, we get Christmas twice this year!"  
  


* * * * * *

  
_Four to six months later  
By Grace's count  
(An hour later to Chang Lee)_  
  
Chang Lee stood on the roof of the building he now lived in.  He owned the entire top floor and so this part of the roof was actually his penthouse gardens.  Thanks to the Gallifreyan gold that the Doctor had given him all those years ago, he had been able to invest intelligently and grown his investments even through the recessions.  
  
He was a rich man now, and now... in his early thirties.  He had only been nineteen in 1999.  Too young to think with his head beyond the immediate needs of fun and parties... and running with the wrong crowd.  He was now thirty five and a whole world more mature than he had been back then.  
  
There was a clap as if far off thunder sounded, but it was a clear day.  And then another, and then the wheezing, groaning sound that had changed his life faded into existence the same way it had all those years ago.  He smiled to see it now, where as then he had simply been scared and confused.  The TARDIS was the same, and yet different.  He supposed that, like its pilot, it also went through changes as the years passed.  
  
The doors opened and Grace stepped out.  Chang Lee hugged his old friend and then the doors opened wider and out stepped three women.  One was a young blonde woman who ran out and danced in a circle in the snow on the roof.  Another one was a ginger with long hair, and the manner of a concerned mother and professional both.  The third was a hispanic woman with long hair that fell in loose curls and leaned on a cane.  
  
This had to be the new face of the Doctor.  Chang Lee held out his arms to hug her and she accepted his hug.  "Chang Lee," she said, and now that he heard her voice, it confirmed his suspicion.  She stepped back and looked him up and down.  "The years have been gentle to you.  You've done well."  
  
"Thanks to you," he answered.  "Come on, come on, let's not stand out here where you'll all freeze.  I had the place decorated.  I don't usually... I normally don't celebrate here."  
  
The four of them headed into the condo and shook off their jackets from the snow outside.  The Doctor looked around at the modern, open concept but very well appointed space within that featured floor to ceiling views of the city at all angles.  "You've done very well for yourself," she said, her eyes twinkling.  
  
He laughed.  "Yeah, a far cry from that gang banging in Chinatown."  
  
"Why Quebec City?" asked Donna.  
  
"It's different... and while it's not San Fran... it's still got its own charms," he answered.  "And I still go back there every so often.  Visit Grace..."  
  
"We've never lost contact," she added.  
  
"I'm glad," said the Doctor.  
  
They moved into the space and he served everyone a drink as they gazed out over the city.  "Merry Christmas, Doctor," he said.  
  
"To you as well, Chang Lee," she said.  "And to a long life of prosperity.  I'm glad I came."  
  
The five of them stared out over the city as the lights of the season lit up the cityscape below.  Jenny looked over to the Doctor, and held her hand and smiled.  
  
The Doctor smiled back.  
  
"To family," she said.  
  
"To family," agreed the Doctor.  
  
Underneath them, the holidays came alive in the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Operation Red Nose is a Canadian tradition that runs from late November to early January. It's a free service, run by volunteers, that serves to get anyone with a car safely home after celebrating the holidays from anywhere.
> 
> The Red Nose volunteers drive the client's car, following by an escort vehicle, from place to place after the driver-client has had a few. They will allow as many passengers as there is seatbelts for safety, so long as there is enough belted space for the volunteer driver and the volunteer navigator.
> 
> The point is to prevent drinking and driving, but also allow for people to still be mobile enough to celebrate the season with no worries of getting home if they've had a few.
> 
> Happy Holidays (even if it is in June).
> 
> If you're in Canada, please consider volunteering. Escort drivers, navigators and volunteer drivers are always needed.
> 
> And, if you're in Canada and you've had a few during the time Operation Red Nose is in effect... give them a call and drive safe.


	9. The Net

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor wakes up in an AI controlled world based on a popular video game and must fight her way out, but is she the only one in the game?

The TARDIS rematerialized in the park across the street from Grace's home and a few moments later five people filed out.  Grace Holloway took a large breath of the warm, summer, air.  "No offense, Doctor, as fun as it was to celebrate Christmas in July I think I prefer winter when it belongs," said Grace.  
  
With a smile, the Doctor said, "Sometimes a visit to someplace that still has winter makes summer all the better."  
  
She didn't lean on the cane as heavily.  Months earlier, while here in San Francisco, she had been run down by a hit and run driver and barely managed to pull through.  Her natural Gallifreyan structure and Time Lord ability to heal had not only kept her from death (and subsequent regeneration) but also managed to heal injuries not so easily healed.  But even those natural gifts had their limits, as evidenced by the cane six months later by her own time line.  
  
While recuperating, she and Grace had caught up on old times and then, finally...  
  


* * * * * *

  
_Four months earlier_  
  
Grace sat down in her den that morning with the full intention of going to work.  She looked over at the Doctor, again marvelling how the shy, Edwardian, gentlemen was now suddenly a modern woman who looked like she could hide easily in any office.  Almost as if the Doctor knew what she was thinking, she turned to look at Grace straight in the eyes.  
  
For a long moment, neither of them said anything.  
  
But it was enough for Grace to just know that those eyes were of another person entirely and not just a regenerated form of the Doctor.  She felt almost cheated, but at the same time a sinking sense of dread washed over her.  "I'm sorry, Grace," said the Doctor.  
  
"How did you know what I was thinking?" asked Grace and the Doctor did a motion with her hand that moved from her head and pointed to Grace's.  "Right, your race is telepathic.  It's clear you know enough about the Doctor to know who his friends and enemies are... and you have the TARDIS.  Just who are you?"  
  
"His granddaughter."  
  
The plain answer took Grace by surprise, but the actual answer was like a blow to the gut.  Her alien crush had been clearly married at some point.  Had children... who had grandchildren.  "I was his granddaughter before he met you, Grace."  The Doctor grinned.  "A long time before you.  We're a very long lived race... and my grandfather and I left Gallifrey when I was far younger than I am now and many hundreds of years before he met you."  
  
"So where is he, then?" asked Grace.  "In a Gallifreyan old age home?"  
  
The Doctor shook her head and the smile fell off.  "No."  
  
"He's dead," Grace realized, knowing by the look on this Doctor's face from long experience in the medical profession and having to give similar news to others.  "When?"  
  
"A long time after you, to his perspective.  Approximately nine hundred years to a thousand, perhaps more, after parting company with you."  This Doctor sighed.  "To explain it to my own would be rather complicated... which is normal for a time travelling race.  It never was this convoluted...  Gallifrey and the Council kept it reasonably linear by law and the TARDISes were programmed to not go back on an individual's time line, or their own, so as to maintain those time lines.  When the Eye of Harmony was destroyed, that changed."  
  
Grace suddenly remembered back to her adventure with the Doctor at the turn of the millennium and felt her stomach fall out from under her again.  "It was opened?"  
  
"Yes, and it was only part of what was to make the Moment... and that which destroyed Gallifrey and created the Time Lock.  Grandfather locked that part away in his memory so that it could never be accessed so that it could never, ever, be used again."  The Doctor leaned back in the couch.  "The TARDIS lost its power and that which linked it, and kept it from going back and forth in its own time lines, and he had to find another way to power it.  It won't ever open again... it doesn't even exist anymore.  Or... rather... it does but is no longer stored and controlled."  
  
Grace had drank her coffee then, quietly.  "When... when did he go?"  
  
The Doctor had been quiet for a time longer.  "When it was his time."  
  


* * * * * *

  
_The present (relatively speaking...)_  
  
Grace watched as the Doctor tiredly hobbled her way into the living room and sat down heavily on one of the chairs, using her cane to lean her forehead on.  Grace put her hand on the Doctor's shoulder in empathy, knowing that piloting the TARDIS and moving across the street had tired her out.  "Why don't you rest for a bit?" asked Grace.  
  
"I think I just might."  The fact that she admitted it was a good idea told Grace just how tired the Doctor was.  "Thanks, Grace."  
  
"Anytime," answered Grace as the Doctor looked up with one her eyebrows lifted.  "I mean it."  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT ONE**

* * * * * * * *

  
The Doctor woke from her nap and rolled over in her bed.  Only, as she opened her eyes, it wasn't her bed.  It wasn't Grace's guest bedroom either... nor anywhere she recognized.  It was more like she was in an old castle in Scotland... one of the ones that actually allowed rentals.  Except there was something not quite right.  Everything was correct to the last detail right down the items on the wall.  
  
Except those... she blinked.  
  
There were books on the wall more suited to an alchemist's study and she scoffed at the quasi-science.  She sat up, putting her feet on the cold stone floor... that wasn't as cold as she expected and she purred with the unexpected pleasure of that... and stretched.  
  
Her injuries were completely gone.  Finally, she mused although logically that meant she either slept far long than a simple nap or someone had seen fit to heal her.  Again, it didn't fit but it might explain why she was somewhere else from when she went to sleep.  
  
Standing up, she smoothed out the fine linen sleeping gown, noticing for the first time the fact that it was fine and so were the items on the bed.  Linen sheets (anachronistic a bit, but from a re-en actor’s point of view plenty more comfortable than the other option) and heavy, thick well tanned furs acting as comforters to keep warm in a chilly night.  Fluffy, and when she felt it they were indeed a type of feather, pillows double covered to keep the down inside the pillow and to save the first cover from having to be washed as often.  Pushing on the bed she was pleased to note that it wasn't stuffed with straw or some other equally medieval material, but the construction was medieval.  It was still natural materials instead of polyesters, and materials not known to harbour "friends" that weren't really friendly at all, but still far more advanced than medieval times.  
  
Had they taken her back to the Master?  She quailed at the thought and stretched out her mind.  Oddly, she couldn't very far and what she sensed didn't make sense.  
  
Her Time Sense was completely off and, while it took track of time, it just didn't seem to have the proper sense of things.  It was as if her senses told her one thing but what was plain in front of her face was another.  
  
So... not back in Spain with the Master after all.  
  
She looked around for clothes but didn't find any... not even in the wardrobe.  At least not her clothes.  It seemed to be all robes and such of a culture she wasn't familiar with, more like a mashing together of multiple cultures and a fashion designers idea of what would be appealing to a re-en actor but by far not accurate at all.  
  
The Doctor was trying to figure out this puzzle when the door opened and a serving woman came in.  They looked at each other for a long moment and the woman said, "You're awake."  
  
"How long was I asleep?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"A few days, at least.  When they brought you here you were almost dead.  No one goes swimming in that lake and when you washed up on the shore the Templars almost buried you, but Wynne saw that you were breathing."  
  
Templars?  Wynne?  Now she was really confused.  "Who and what?" she asked.  
  
If anything, the woman was even more confused.  "Did you bump your head?"  
  
"Possibly, I can't remember," she smirked at her own joke... it was something her grandfather had said to Grace once and if she remembered that correctly it was under the same circumstances.  
  
It got the same glare which meant the woman caught the off handed remark.  "My name is Lily, and yours is?"  
  
"The Doctor," she answered.  
  
"Doctor who?" asked Lily in puzzlement.  
  
"Just the Doctor."  
  
"You must have really bumped your head if you can't remember your own name," said Lily.  "Well, no point in having you in your bedclothes if you are well enough to stand... I realize our robes might not be what you're used to but they're want we have."  
  
"Ah, yes, I had noticed that.  Where am I?"  
  
"The Mage's Tower on Lake Calahad."  
  
"The what on the where?" asked the Doctor, not entirely sure she had heard correctly even though her hearing was actually rather good.  
  
"The Mage's Tower," repeated Lily, a bit slower.  "On Lake Calahad.  Near Redcliffe, or across the lake from Redcliffe, in Ferelden."  
  
She wasn't on Earth anymore.  
  


* * * * * *

  
Hours later, and dressed in one of their robes as it was the only thing they had, she was brought to the top of the tower to speak to their council and this Wynne, who was the 'First Enchanter' of the Ferelden Circle of Mages.  She was still a bit confused, but at least now armed with the knowledge that she wasn't likely on Earth the Time Sense issues started to make sense.  
  
Magic on this planet apparently was real... in the sense that it could be.  The Doctor understood how they would think it magic.  Scientifically speaking magic was merely science so far unproved and without a name, or psionics that were not understood fully.  She suspected it was a mix of both from the exercises she had seen the students in the various study halls doing.  
  
Gallifrey had gone through a similar period of learning... a similar start.  A long time ago Gallifreyans had believed in Pazithi Gallifreya being a Goddess of quite some power, and her 'descendents' had all been called her name in some way, right down to Pythia before Rassilon, Omega and the Other overthrew her and replaced the cult of Pythia with his own, scientific logic, version of the same thing.  
  
But that was neither here nor there.  
  
Or so the Doctor hoped.  Like all Gallifreyans, and Time Lords, the last thing she wanted was to end up in the middle of the cataclysmic battleground or to run across either God of her culture.  While Gallifreyan were not religious per se they more than a little bit of healthy respect (and perhaps fear) of either Goddess or God and didn't wish to meet them... which typically meant they were dead permanently and in the Matrix.  
  
She stood in the middle of the circular council room, looking around, wishing that she had learned what they had called their world and the countries and territories, and individual tribes, before that all died out and before the Ice Age brought about their modern era.  Before that, back before the Dark Times and before the Time Lords when Gallifrey was just starting to pull itself out of the stone age, the planet had been warmer, more temperate.  There had been more people and more varieties of people that the cooling temperatures heralding the modern era had rendered extinct as tribes either killed each other over precious resources or banded together and created new tribes.  
  
As Arkytior she had not paid much attention to that far back in their history other than the basics.  
  
In the beginning of Time, for Gallifrey, the planet had been full of oceans, islands and forests.  Deadly, brutal and still short of freshwater.  The Gallifreyans had evolved from their four legged form and stood up, going from roving hunting packs to tribes that began to settle, but were still nomadic.  The more powerful the pack (and this didn't necessarily mean in numbers) the more likely they were to win resources from another.  They were aggressive, cunning and quick but still slow to breed.  
  
As civilization crept in, this brought about a wood and stone age, and then a bronze age where the first city, called Gallifrey, was built... if you could call a grouping of hovels carved into the side of mountains a city... and it formed a trading centre.  With the discovery of trade came education and then the age of steel and invention.  
  
The closeness of the first moon caused major earthquakes and tidal anomalies, but as much as She took she also gave back in semi-random patterns that the first Pythian Oracles figured out... and once they did they wasted no time in exerting their control over the superstitious others.  The moon became Pazithi Gallifreya, a Goddess, and her followers the Sisterhood and they were the forerunners of the Sisterhood of Karn.  
  
There was a point in time, as she understood it, where Gallifrey and this Ferelden would have had a very similar culture, even if the architecture wasn't precisely the same.  Ferelden looked human, not Gallifreyan.  
  
The precise details she was not sure on, however.  
  
"Greetings, stranger, you are welcome here as long as you abide by our rules," said an older woman.  "My name is Wynne, the First Enchanter of the Circle of Mages.  I understand that you are not familiar with us or with where you are."  
  
"That is correct," answered the Doctor.  "But I am curious."  
  
There was a low chuckle from behind her and Wynne smiled.  "You are welcome to stay and learn, if you wish.  It's been awhile since we've had an outsider willing to learn instead of simply fearing what we have to teach.  Tell me, do you have magic?"  
  
"Honestly, even if I believed it existed I wouldn't know," answered the Doctor honestly.  "Where I'm from 'magic' is a child's dream and play toy of their overactive imagination.  Wishful thinking, but nothing more.  We prefer the truth of science."  
  
Wynne stared at her in open-mouthed shock, and from the sudden silence in the room she had a feeling that this statement had shocked more than one person.  "How can you not believe?  Where are you from where this is no magic?" asked someone behind her.  
  
"To us, magic is science unproved and without name and something to be researched until dis-proven as imaginative fancy or hard fact with definite controls... but something anyone can use if given the right tool to do so," she answered.  "Some are, naturally, more gifted with science and how to use and how it works than others but it is generally accepted that with training anyone can do it.  I am sorry if it doesn't match with your beliefs."  
  
"What of the Maker?" asked an armoured man, suddenly fascinated with her words.  
  
"The who?" she asked.  
  
"Maker preserve us!  You don't know of the Chantry?" he asked, standing up.  
  
"No, I do not.  We had religion at one point but it was... dis-proven and set aside as needless superstition.  I do not belittle others beliefs, however.  Not only would that be needlessly rude, but also grossly insensitive," she answered.  
  
He blinked in surprise.  "Yes, well... I suppose a culture like that would believe very differently... even if your words are like heresy to me.  Are you going to try to convince others?"  
  
She sighed.  How like a religious organization to want to keep a hold of their followers... likely very devoted ones as well.  "No, I am not.  That is not my place to tell others how to think."  _Even if you feel it's yours_ , but she didn't add that aloud.  
  
He nodded and sat down.  "Then we have no issues," he decided, and she caught the disapproving glare from a robed woman who wore the same symbols as he did.  "What is, out of curiosity, your views on religion and faith?"  
  
She glared back at him, knowing a trap when she heard one.  "It can be beautiful and fulfilling or harmful and demanding, some can be both.  It is all in the individual who subscribes to it.  As for me, I do not pass judgement on it.  It is not my place to as I do not know enough about all faiths out there.  I cannot judge something I do not know."  
  
He nodded, a thoughtful look to his face and the robed woman beside him even nodded, a similar look on hers.  "Wise words," she said. "Something not everyone is aware of."  
  
The Doctor inclined her head and turned her attention back to Wynne who seemed somewhat secretly pleased with the exchange.  "So then we have much to learn from each other.  The Circle is not only a Circle of Mages, it is also one of mutual learning and respect... one I hope to open to others than just mages."  The next was said with an obvious glare and dig to the armoured man.  "Something others are resistant to admit."  
  
"Look, I did not mean to bring up a delicate subject..." started the Doctor, and she was greeted by a snort by the Templar.  
  
"Trust me, my Lady, this is oft argued about in this room.  It's turned into a sport."  
  
There was some titters of laughter from around the room, and the Doctor relaxed marginally, recognizing that the subject was a sore one.  She wasn't too pleased to be used as their latest weapon against the other, but at least she hadn't caused it.  This time.  
  
She turned to Wynne. "I wouldn't mind being able to walk around a bit, perhaps outside of the tower.  And I would like to see where I was found originally..."  
  
"I can help you with that," said the Templar as he stood up.  "It was one of my own order that saw you, and me and another who fished you out of the lake.  Can you remember how you ended up there?"  
  
"No, I do not," she answered.  "The last I remember was lying down for a nap at a friend's... in her home... and I assure you she is no where close to Ferelden.  I cannot remember anything in between."  
  
"Strange, but not unheard of," said Wynne.  "But clearly your predicament lies in our jurisdiction if we are to solve this mystery.  I have a friend who attracts such trouble."  
  
"You're not seriously going to involve her are you?" asked the Templar.  
  
"Perhaps I am, perhaps not... it all hinges on whether she can be found or not.  Alistair has been having issues keeping track of her."  
  
"Alistair?" asked the Doctor, suddenly, finally, recognizing a name.  "He's known here?"  
  
Everyone seemed to suddenly look at her in surprise.  "You know Alistair?"  
  
"Yes -- he's a friend of mine.  Perhaps he can tell me where I am."  
  
"Ah, suddenly things are a bit clearer," said the Templar, with a smile.  "It would stand to reason that she is attached to him somehow... and perhaps through her."  
  
"Her who?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"The Hero of Ferelden and the slayer of the Arch-demon," answered Wynne.  "Surely you know of the dark-spawn?"  
  
"Ah, no..." admitted the Doctor.  "I think perhaps I come from farther than you know."  
  
"A place with no Darkspawn?" wondered the Templar.  "By the Maker... truly?"  
  
"I'm missing something here, aren't I?" asked the Doctor.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT TWO**

* * * * * * * *

  
Hours later, and much discussions later, the Doctor was allowed to wearily make it back to her room where she gratefully took a nap for an hour.  It was not yet full dark, but it was clearly too dark to chance going out and creeping along wet, slippery rocks.  The apprentice mage, which was what the servant had been, guided her to the dining hall where she could feel the others eyes on her.  
  
Circle meetings were as tiresome as Time Lord High Council meetings, and just as tedious and political.  She swore that the next time she was 'invited' she would learn to keep herself uninvolved and if called on her answers short and to the quick so she could go back to whatever it was she had been doing before.  
  
Likely trying to find her friends.  
  
She was concerned for them, naturally, as so far she had been the only one found and evidently Lake Calenhad had a rather real, and deadly, issue with creatures that ate swimmers.  Fresh water versions of the shark from Jaws, only with more teeth and less mercy.  
  
As she lay there -- most decidedly not sleeping -- she took stock of the situation.  
  
One, she was no longer even remotely injured.  What she had were gone.  Mind you, any injuries from being fished out of Lake Calenhad were also gone, so that meant little.  It did mean that, despite how primitive these people appeared, they had an almost Nanogene-level of healing ability that they likely thought was magic.  
  
Two, her friends were missing and no one had even seen signs of them.  Given the reputation of the lake, she sincerely hoped that it merely meant they had landed elsewhere and weren't at the mercies of whatever was in the lake.  
  
Three, she had no idea how she got here or how long she, herself, had been missing.  
  
Four... she could just barely sense the TARDIS.  Enough to know she still existed, but not enough to know where or when her time ship was.  And on that, time seemed strange... as if it was dual instead of singular.  
  
An hour later, she was up and expecting her escort to the dining hall.  The woman was right on time.  "What was said during the meeting?" asked her escort, who was an apprentice mage, as the Doctor understood.  
  
"A lot of postulating... mind numbingly boring postulating," answered the Doctor.  "Trust me when I say you aren't missing much, despite what the others tell you."  
  
The apprentice seemed shocked.  "Seriously?  Huh, and I always thought they were hiding something else.  The way they lean on their secrecy always makes the others think so... but I can tell you simply told the truth.  You wouldn't know to hide it."  
  
"Well, don't tell the others I told you.  You can keep them in the dark, and give them the impression that you know... which you do... ironically.  It was much the same where I come from.  All pointless pomp to the point that we had no idea why we did it... we just did.  It was tradition."  The Doctor looked at the apprentice.  "Some traditions are meant to be broken, but the key, and the sign of true wisdom, is knowing which should be.  Some are not pointless nor without their purpose."  
  
"I think the Chantry would be greatly grieved to hear you say that."  
  
"Perhaps... but I cannot say.  I'm not familiar with the Chantry."  
  
"I had heard rumours of such," she said.  "Is it true that where you come from they don't know anything about the Chantry?"  
  
"Yes," answered the Doctor.  
  
There was no response and her escort turned back to her.  "Perhaps we should go to the dining hall before the others talk... and they do like to talk."  
  
With a sigh, the Doctor followed behind.  
  
The dining hall was like any academy dining hall.  It reminded her of the Academy, actually.  Instructors and senior mages sat in their own area, the tables and chairs the same as the rest, but preferring to mix with those of their own little circle.  Others mixed into their own circles, and the younger ones were to the side where the creche masters could keep a close eye on them.  There were no signs of any really young ones, but she didn't expect to.  There was a hum of conversation, but it didn't echo as the echoes were buffered by large banners which hung from the rafters as well as on the walls.  Given the stone walls, if not for these banners and tapestries, it would have been horrible for echoes and noise.  
  
She was guided to a table where the Inner Circle, those in the higher echelon of the Mage Tower's leadership, had the tendency to sit if they did not take their dinner in their own suites.  Leorah was one of these few, and as such her table was mostly empty except for an interesting mix of apprentices and Mages, as well as one or two non-mage guests and even the Templar she had met yesterday.  
  
"Madame Leorah," greeted the Doctor.  
  
"Ah, Doctor, I am glad you have decided to join us," said Leorah.  "I did not properly introduce you to Greagoir today."  She indicated the Templar.  "For that I hope you can forgive the oversight."  
  
"It was not the best time for introductions, so I can understand," answered the Doctor, and then she turned to Greagoir.  "Sir Greagoir, it is a pleasure to meet you formally."  
  
"And it is my pleasure to finally meet you outside of a formal circumstance," he said, and he stood up, pulling out a chair beside him... clearly meaning for her to sit beside him.  
  
The Doctor politely accepted his invitation and sat down on the offered chair as he then sat down beside her.  The formality of the meal was rather informal, even if the food was served at the table instead of a buffet style of a cafeteria.  These servers were, as she understood, the very junior of apprentices but old enough to handle the chore without aid.  After that, it was simply serving oneself from the food on table as if in a normal home and the Doctor gratefully filled her plate and own goblet of the same rich red wine that she remembered from earlier that day.  
  
Conversation moved to questions about the lessons of the day, which the Doctor listened to with half an ear, news of the outside world, which she paid rapt attention to even if she maintained a less than interested exterior.  
  
"Did you hear about the events in Kirkwall?" asked Greagoir.  
  
"I did not," admitted one of the other Mages.  
  
"Ah, you have been too long in your lab, Heras," said Leorah with a smile, but it fell off when she turned back to the subject Greagoir had brought up.  "Dire events those have the potential to be."  
  
"Indeed they are," agreed Greagoir.  "Most concerning, and I have to wonder if the same will happen here.  I hope not... and not because I'm a Templar.  I'm more worried about the loss of life on both sides should it happen."  
  
"What is happening?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"A rebellion, of sorts.  Most troubling is that the Templars there are asking for it... I know Meredith. Well, rather I knew her a long time ago.  Dedicated... too dedicated if you take my meaning," said Greagoir darkly.  
  
"I do take your meaning."  The Doctor frowned.  "Are you saying she is asking for the mages there to rebel for a reason?  Why would she want... oh, I see."  
  
"Exactly our point," said Leorah, and then she smiled at Greagoir.  "However, given that Meredith is there and you are here, I hardly see the same being an issue.  I can see how the mages here would be sympathetic..."  
  
"... and how some Templars here would also be sympathetic to Meredith's cause," finished Greagoir.  "Which is something you don't see, Leorah.  I may not always be leading the contingent here... and the Order of Templars is much larger than I."  
  
"Oh, I agree," said Leorah a bit too innocently.  "And I loathe to see the day where I do not see you every day."  
  
Greagoir sighed and then chuckled while shaking his head.  "Dammit woman, that could have been taken so many different ways and some of them not entirely proper for either of us."  He then grew grave again.  "They say a renegade leads them... a mage not of the Circle, of any Circle and they can't touch her because she has too much power, too much prestige, within the city."  
  
"Interesting, a renegade the Templars cannot bring in," said Leorah.  "That is a bit troubling, considering the unpredictability of such a person."  
  
"Alistair met her.  In fact, he went to Kirkwall with the express purpose to take her measure.  She's taken up with that blasted pirate woman that used to frequent the Pearl."  Leorah choked on her soup when Greagoir mentioned her.  "And Anders."  
  
"What!?" Leorah looked up in horror.  "By the Maker... that cannot be good.  But if she is with Anders, then I can see why else Alistair went to meet her."  
  
"Yes, well, that was my thought too," Greagoir chuckled.  "Speaking of 'the Warden', has anyone seen hide or hair of her lately?"  
  
"Not since the events in Amaranthine," answered Leorah, with a frown.  "King Alistair said she received a letter from a dwarf and left for Orzammar..."  
  
"That's not necessarily true, one of the apprentices say she, her war dog and a Dalish came to look through the library.  They took Finn with them... perhaps if you talked to him he could tell you more," suggested the apprentice.  
  
"When was this?" asked Greagoir, surprised.  
  
"When you were in Denerim," answered the same apprentice.  "The Templar you left in charge allowed it because it was the Warden and Hero of Fereldan... and Finn eventually came back."  
  
The Doctor listened to this, as confused as she was but got the distinct feeling that they were discussing world changing events not only.  "Who is Finn?" asked Leorah, furrowing her brow.  
  
"Oh, right... Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant," answered the same apprentice with a bit of a giggle.  "He shortened it to Finn because we kept calling him Flora."  
  
Wynne sighed at the apprentice's nickname, but she now obviously knew who they were talking about.  "Ah yes, the one whose father still managed to maintain contact with him and, while he has no rights to inherit as a mage, still thankfully has not abandoned him."  
  
"Ah yes," said Greagoir.  "I remember him now.  He came back from that a bit grimmer."  
  
"Working with the Grey Wardens does that," said Leorah.  "I imagine he's rather lucky he didn't come back tainted... or a Grey Warden himself."  
  
"I forgot to ask, where is Wynne?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"Ah, she had business in Val Royeaux with the Irving," answered Leorah.  
  
"Irving?" asked the Doctor, immediately paying attention.  "Irving who?"  
  
"The First Enchanter of Fereldan," answered Greagoir.  "Wynne is only a Senior Enchanter, like Leorah here."  
  
"I see," answered the Doctor.  "What does Irving look like?"  
  
"You sound like you could know him," chuckled Leorah.  "Well, he's an older man... white hair, white beard.  Well kept, but long instead of trimmed.  Always a bit on the weary side.  I think perhaps he is considering retiring, but it would be a great loss if he did so."  
  
"Perhaps I do not, the Irving I know is not an old man," she sighed.  "So far that's two names I know, but not the person I think they are."  
  
"Who were the others?" asked Leorah.  
  
"Alistair," answered the Doctor.  "But there appears to be more than one Alistair out there.  The one I know is no king, nor is he a young man.  Sir Alistair is well on in his years and retired, like you describe your Irving and the Irving I know, while my senior, is a middle aged to older man, but not really elderly."  
  
"Interesting coincidence," pointed out Greagoir.  
  
The dinner hour came to an end and the Doctor was escorted back to her suites with quite a bit more to think about.  
  
The more she spent with the Mages the more she was reminded of her own people... or any other intrigue ridden culture.  With a sigh she lay in her bed and was surprised when the mirror in front of the wall opened and a woman walked through.  "You must come with me."  
  
"Why?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"Because not everyone in the Circle is helping you... even if they are real.  Come on, the code allowing me to bend the rules of the game is only going to last so long before the GM's notice the hack," the woman beckoned again.  
  
Blinking, the Doctor followed her through the mirror to a place that was clearly not a neo-medieval location.  It was plain that it was a holding area... a place between places... in a virtual reality.  Green and blue lines outlined the terrain of the area as the woman led her to another opening where things looked real again.  Stepping through she found herself in the same sort of environment, but the window showed that she was on the other side of the lake and the Tower was extremely far off into the distance, like a mirage on the horizon.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT THREE**

* * * * * * * *

  
The Doctor looked out the window to where the Tower, where she had been not five minutes ago, was now in the far off distance.  She turned to the woman that had saved her and said, "All right, and you are?"  
  
"I am amazed that is your question, considering the situation you find yourself in.  Nothing here is real and yet you decide to ask me who I am," she answered.  "I would think you would ask how you became to be in this over done simulation."  
  
"In its own due time," answered the Doctor.  "Right now, I'd like to know who decided to save me from it."  
  
"For now you may call me Morrigan, but know that I'm no more real than any of this.  I'm just far more aware and less deluded than those who allow themselves to fall into the fantasy," she answered dismissively.  "And what of you... you are no simulation, no programmed AI to create this fantasy.  An outsider in a world where no one can tell an outsider from someone, something, who is not.  I have a theory on darkspawn now... wondering if they are degraded programs."  
  
"How did you become aware?" asked the Doctor.  "How did you figure out you're a program?"  
  
"For those who choose to live a life of questioning what is around them, it becomes rather obvious that things are not as they appear.  Keep looking and you find the truth of things.  It is a rather cunning and thorough simulation, I give the Maker that," said Morrigan.  "Then again, perhaps I am real, like you.  That's the worst of it -- you are never sure.  You remember your entire life.  I know non-AI that had their memories so scrambled that they believed the simulation but you... you are different.  You remember and you know where you truly came from.  Your memories are untampered.  That makes you a threat -- and trust me when I say that those most likely to be a threat -- those closest to the Fade and the Weave of Magic are the biggest threats.  I think that is why you ended up where you did... where you could be watched closely."  
  
"Interesting theory.  So... as a program you hacked the program.  Interesting."  
  
Morrigan laughed.  "Yes, well... I yearn to have power.  Now that I know who, and what, the Maker truly is I know what it is to have it."  
  
"I take it this 'Maker' is no god," mused the Doctor grimly.  
  
"Indeed... the Maker is no other than someone from outside the program, someone beyond the Fade, which I have learned is an area not only where us programs dream and go where we 'die' but also the sandbox in which the programmers, the Maker and his, or her, cohorts test out new things.  It is also where programming viruses are kept under lock and key, unless the Veil is torn and they are allowed to manifest... as Demons," said Morrigan.  "Before we all swallowed it as what it appeared while us mages, particularly us illegal ones, wondered at it.  It always clawed at me that there had to be something more..."  
  
"And when you found out?"  
  
"I was appalled at learning that everything I knew was a lie, a dream... a program.  But, it is more than that... it is a dream as well.  It is too organic and has too much of a life of its own to be a simple program.  I must wonder at it."  
  
The Doctor was silent for a time, and then she walked outside with Morrigan on her heels.  "Are you mad?" she demanded.  
  
The Doctor ignored her, not out of rudeness, but because she finally understood.  Staring up at the sky she said, loudly and forcefully, leaning a bit of her tele-empathic ability into it as well.  "I deny this reality... and know it for what it is... this is the Matrix of Gallifrey, the repository of all Time Lords.  Our genetic memory.  Show me the truth!"  
  
For a moment, the world warped, then snapped back into clear focus.  However, things seemed to slow down while the Doctor remained at normal speed.  The sky changed to the black field with the blue six sided grid.  She smiled.  "I knew it."  
  
The reality that was pervading snapped back as if to take back its claim and everything returned to normal. Morrigan looked at her in wonder.  "How did you do that?  I have only been able to hack with the mirrors."  
  
"You had to know what it was.  I know who your 'Maker' is now... and why the names and the voices are so very familiar."  
  
"All right, why then?" asked Morrigan.  
  
"The Maker is, or was, a Time Lord... and not just any Time Lord... but the very grandfather of them all... _Rassilon_."  
  


* * * * * *

  
Morrigan and the Doctor, hours later, mused over mulled wine.  "I can see why they would think you dangerous.  You would have figured it out if they left you to your own devices, but in that Tower you would have been far too busy trying to sort out their petty little messes to do so.  Who is this Rassilon?"  
  
"While he is no Maker, he is responsible for making the Time Lords what they are... in fact you might say he created them."  
  
"Like the Chantry says the Maker made the world," said Morrigan.  
  
"Quite, only they're half right on that... but he didn't make it.  He had an idea for it, but it was Omega who made the Matrix with the help of the Other.  You see, Rassilon took our race the Gallifreyans and created something else using bio-engineering and genetic programming, as well as a very aggressively selective breeding program to breed certain traits into our race... and it worked."  The Doctor leaned back in her chair.  "It had a side effect... turning a previously slightly psychic race into a more powerful psychic race.  It was as if he turned everyone into magic users, but some were stronger than others.  These top level psi's were picked out of the general population, with their family unit, and called Time Lords.  In time, through intermarrying these early Time Lords with other Time Lords, they grew in power and ability."  
  
"What of those who weren’t as powerful?"  
  
"Labourers and tradespeople... the normal populace with the Time Lords as the ruling caste on Gallifrey."  The Doctor was not in the room, even though she was talking to Morrigan.  Her mind was seeing Gallifrey as she remembered it.  "But, given the breeding out of the less powerful ones, even a normal Gallifreyan has some ability... and far more than our early ancestors did.  In that time we took large leaps in our own evolution and technology, but there was a cost.  When a psychic dies, a part of their essence remains and doesn't necessarily dissipate for some time.  Some called these ghosts, and they were.  Are, sorry.  The more powerful the psychic the more likely it is they leave behind a ghost that will not dissipate.  When this was discovered, Rassilon realized he had a rather large problem on his hands... Gallifrey was being overrun by ghosts and this nearly destroyed us."  
  
"How did you solve it?" asked Morrigan, her curiosity getting the better of her.  
  
"Omega came up with an idea... a repository of the psychic energy to hold these 'souls' in containment, but could not come up with another other way to help them move on.  It was the Other who tweaked the containment into something else... while eventually most will fade after awhile the containment could also be used as a computer where the greatest and brightest could always be consulted, even long after their final deaths so long as the Soul Catching ritual was done quickly enough."  The Doctor leaned forward again.  "A dying Time Lord was taken to the chamber and laid down on a dais -- and a type of... crown... that was attached to the device, this Matrix, was put on his or her head as they died.  The machine would somehow draw the psychic energy from the dying Time Lord's body and store it in the Matrix."  
  
"So, we're all the souls of these dead Time Lords?" asked Morrigan, a catch in her voice.  "We aren't alive, but we were?"  
  
"It's possible, or it's possible that you're a construct of these Time Lords.  A way for them to have some context when a living Time Lord enters the Matrix to consult their knowledge."  
  
Morrigan thought about this for a while longer.  "An interesting thought... I find it a bit more appealing than being the artificial construct of a computer."  
  
"Why this world, though?  It is not Gallifreyan in nature, but human... I recognize elements of human culture in specific even though there are plenty of Gallifreyan influences.  It is almost as if..."  The Doctor drew back, and she found herself in a vision.  
  
She was watching a Time Lord being subjected to the Soul Catching ritual and the Time Lord was a rather familiar one...  She tried to stop watching but it was like watching a train wreck in progress.  Once you saw it you could not tear your eyes away as much as you tried.  
  
The Time Lord on the low bed being attached to the Matrix was her grandfather... as she remembered him when she saw him again when David was murdered by the Master.  Here, her grandfather was an Edwardian gentleman with long, but greying, sandy hair and a boyishly handsome face.  
  
 _This doesn't make any sense_ , she thought.  _I was there when grandfather died and it was not this incarnation of him... but if he died there and then... who died in my arms while River Song watched?_  
  
One of the other Gallifreyans conducting the ritual turned long enough for the Doctor to see his face.  
  
The Inquisitor.  
  
Her blood ran cold.  What the hell had he to do with this?  The Inquisitor had been the thorn in her side in Spain and it had been only with the Master's help that she had been able to bring him to justice.  
  
The room changed and she stood facing her grandfather, as she originally remembered him when he had left her behind with David on Earth so very long ago and she read his lips even as she could not hear his words.  
 _  
House Paradox... it's House Paradox... stop the Family... Susan... please..._  
  
She snapped back to the present with Morrigan looking at her in concern.  "Doctor, are you all right?  You lost all focus with your eyes and trailed off."  
  
"How long?" she asked.  
  
"Only a few minutes."  Morrigan realized what happened and her eyes widened.  "You know what is going on, don't you?"  
  
"I have a fair idea and... I know who the Maker is."  
  
"You said that--"  
  
"--I was wrong.  The Maker isn't Rassilon... my grandfather is."  
  
"So, you're telling me that this entire world is a creation of your grandfather's?" asked Morrigan incredulously.  "I take it back, you are mad."  
  
"This is no simulation, it's a dream.  The Fade is simply the murkier area between reality and the dream.  It isn't just his dream though.  When the original Matrix was destroyed on Gallifrey, a new one would have to be made.  The Time Lord Remnant on Earth are midway through it, but House Paradox would have had time to prepare, time and resources to make their own."  The Doctor paced the small room, gesticulating with her hands as she did.  "However, they needed someone who had been in the Matrix before... someone with access.  A Lord President.  My grandfather was Lord President not once, but three times in his long life, not to mention the personal close advisor to a few others.  They kidnapped him, likely drugged him, and attached him to the machine.  The kicker is, as a Lord President and someone not close to death, it didn't 'Soul Catch' him, it allowed him access to the Matrix."  
  
"And?" asked Morrigan.  
  
"Through him, they gained access."  
  
"The darkness... and the Blight.  Those who corrupt the Old Gods, the dragons and stole into the Maker's palace to bring the Blight.  So there is truth to that old Chantry tale after all," mused Morrigan.  "It was a parable for something far worse."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
The two enjoyed their tea for some time more while the Doctor thought heavily about what she would need to do next.  "If I needed to go into the Fade, how would I do it?" she asked.  
  
"You would do so when you dream, or if you were to die, in the simulation," said Morrigan.  "At least, that is what happens to us.  You?  I am not sure."  
  
The Doctor stood up and looked to the bottom of the cliffs to the lake below.  Morrigan followed her glance.  "Oh no, you can't be serious.  If you insist, we could use the mirror again."  
  
"You said it yourself, that hack only works to slide between places, but not the Fade or anything.  Between one grain of sand and the next, but no closer to the real world.  The Fade is the real world, and I cannot take the risk that I will be woken up here."  
  
"This could kill you."  
  
"I can regenerate."  
  
With that the Doctor stepped off the cliff and fell.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT FOUR**

* * * * * * * *

  
The fall took forever.  In reality, had it been a real cliff, she would have hit the bottom and the rocky shore below in less than five seconds.  The fall wouldn't have given her a chance to scream.  This seemed like time dilated and the bottom fell away, like the simulation could not perceive that she had willingly stepped off the cliff.  Not only that, the Doctor suspected that she hadn't been meant to die in the simulation and therefore the program was trying to keep her alive.  
  
Finally, the logic loop snapped and the ground rushed up to meet her.  
  
She passed right through and found herself in a semi melted looking world, where elements of land dotted the landscape on floating islands.  The sky was a sickly grey pink, as if in a state of twilight forever.  
  
The Fade.  
  
She floated down to one of the islands, which was nothing more than a chunk of rock with some spiky bits of rock jutting up and out and a strange statue of a warped humanoid in the middle.  
  
She was alone... not that she wasn't expecting to end up alone.  However, Morrigan had almost been welcome companionship.  Polite, but sharp and to the point.  
  
Blowing out a breath, the Doctor took stock of things.  There was a soreness in her leg and ribs, signifying that where ever her body actually was, the injuries sustained San Francisco had not been completely healed but the simulated world had made it so she wasn't aware of them.  
  
Her Time Sense told her she had been in this simulation exactly four days, two hours, fourteen minutes and seven seconds... and counting.   The return of the exact senses, plus the added sense of how time passed in the simulation, told her that while she was still attached to it that she was also that much closer to the surface.  
  
"Dream world my arse," mused the Doctor.  "Maybe to the AI... but it is closer to..."  
  
She trailed off.  "Twilight... as in twilight state of wakefulness."  The Doctor looked around at the sky again.  "It's not sky, it's the inside of someone's eyelids... perhaps mine, perhaps the perceived notion of someone else.  Either way, I'm a whole lot closer than getting out of here than I was in Redcliffe."  
  
She walked around the island and then inspected the statue.  It was... more than a little disturbing to look at.  It was of a humanoid, possibly human, but had then been disfigured into something monstrous, the face melted and carved into a grinning caricature of a normal face and pulled into exaggerated points.  The arms had been shaped into blades instead of hands and the feet were claw like.  
  
The Doctor found herself thankful that it was only a statue.  
  
With a steadying breath she moved to the edge again, considering her next move.  On a distant island a cloudy mist swirled and obscured things.  Her senses told her that's where she needed to be.  
  
She then had a bit of an epiphany.  
  
Her senses could not be trusted here... she turned and walked back to the statue.  Repulsed by it, she found it difficult to be in its very presence but it was also the most alarmingly solid thing here.  She reached out a hand... steeling herself and gritting her teeth, forcing herself to touch it.  
  
Pain ripped through her, but she fought through it and grabbed it with both hands and stepped into it.  
  
The Doctor opened her eyes and the strange duality of Time Sense disappeared and the contact of Time Lord and TARDIS snapped back into place, confirming that she was again in the real world.  She looked down at herself and found that she was lying on a dais and she laughed as it all made sense.  
  
In her dream she had been her own grandfather -- strapped into the Matrix.  It all made clear sense now but it hadn't been then, although it had been a strong enough clue to lead her out of the simulation.  
  
She pulled out the inter-venous and the feeding tube and sat up, fighting through the vertigo and waited for it to pass.  When it did she stood up and continued to disconnect herself from the life support.  She still had no idea how she got here, but by the Eternals, whomever had taken her was about to learn the real meaning of 'Oncoming Storm'.  
  
Alarms were going off, likely because she had unattached herself from the monitoring and life support.  Any nursing staff probably thought she was coding, or already dead, so she had very little time before she was caught again.  
  
She looked around, and then slid under the dais and console that formed the hard connection to the Matrix.  Sure enough, mere minutes later she saw the boots and shoes as they ran into the room.  "She's gone!" exclaimed one of the nurses.  
  
"She can't have got far -- she hasn't been off the machines long enough.  No, she's still here," said another.  
  
"How did she escape the simulation in the first place?  It was fool proof!" exclaimed a third.  
  
The fourth voice she recognized as Morrigan's.  "It doesn't matter.  What matters now is that she is found.  We cannot risk the Time Lord's attention here."  
  
The boots fanned out, and the Doctor kicked something from the other side of the bed.  It created the opening she needed as she quickly slid out and was through the door before they could recover.  She ran into the hall and through another set of doors, ignoring the shocked look of nurses, doctors and some patients.  
  
She almost laughed in relief.  It was a normal hospital... and granted, as some of the nurses were those cats in wimples, it wasn't on Earth that meant that somewhere here could be an ally.  
  
"Someone stop that woman!" cried out one of the four from behind her.  
  
The Doctor ran around another corner and into another room, hiding against the door, and she looked over at the surprised couple who were looking at their newest litter of kittens.  With a blink, she realized who they were.  A memory drifted up from a time when her grandfather and Martha had... New Earth... it was New Earth.  Next question was it before the Motorway or after?  She made a motion with her finger over her lips in what she hoped would mean that they would not call out or cry for help.  The man, which was actually humanoid cat, nodded and calmed down his wife who appeared to be human.  
  
The sound of running feet ran past the room, and a nurse poked her head in, the door obscuring the Doctor.  "Mr. Brannigan, did you happen to see a dark haired human woman with long dark ringlets, likely running around in a hospital gown?"  
  
"No, why?" asked Brannigan.  "Is this woman dangerous?"  
  
"Ah, no, but she is very ill."  
  
"Well, wish I could help you."  
  
"Very well then, thank you."  
  
The door closed again and the Doctor breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thank you Thomas."  
  
The cat lifted his brows.  "And how do you know my name, girl?"  
  
"Thomas Kincade Brannigan and his wife Valerie, and... is that a second set of kits I see?"  
  
"Second... wait a minute, who are you?"  
  
"It's me... the Doctor... you would remember me as a tall human looking man with spiky hair and sideburns... pinstripe blue suit and a long brown coat.  You saved me from choking to death..."  
  
Brannigan stared at her.  "You can't be him."  
  
"Long story short, I am and yet not.  And... I'm not ill and those people don't exactly have the greatest intentions for me," she answered, and then she grinned.  "I am right, aren't I?  Congratulations, Thomas, Valerie... you are great parents."  
  
"Great stars, Doctor!  It's great to see you again." Brannigan had always had a great sense of people, and he had liked the woman the minute she hid in their doorway but hadn't been able to put his finger on why... but now he knew why.  "Mind you, the cosmetic change is a bit surprising."  
  
"Wasn't by choice, old friend."  
  
"Hmph," he responded and then looked her up and down.  "Well, you're not going to be able to make your escape, or any stand, in that..."  
  


* * * * * *

  
Twenty minutes later after being helped by Valerie into clothing that was normal for this time period.  Not that she needed the help normally but she was still a bit off balance and neither Valerie nor Thomas had wanted her to fall and break her head open on the unforgiving tile.  She could still do with real rest but she had to figure out what was going on here.  
  
She stretched out her senses and was suddenly not so pleasantly surprised by something.  
  
The TARDIS wasn't here, neither here as in the place nor in the time period.  Likely it was right where they left it in front of Grace's in San Francisco in 2021.  _Dammit, not good_ , mused the Doctor.  _Just under five million years away from my own TARDIS_...  
  
It meant that not only did she have to figure out what was going on here, but also she had to somehow either get a message back to Jenny and Donna or get back herself.  
  
She wandered back and was surprised by the emergency services.  "What's going on?" she asked.  
  
"The entire wing was torched," said the nurse.  "The patients were saved, but the wing is a total loss."  
  
"What was in there?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"Thankfully, not much.  It was an older wing due for demolition and we were transferring the patients anyway," he answered.  
  
Not to mention that it was also the only lead she had.  
  
Strangely enough, the four that had been chasing her were now long gone.  
  
The Doctor was trapped and separated by 4,999,998,032 years from her TARDIS...  
  
... with no way back.


	10. Time Lord Influenza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last time this illness reared its ugly head it nearly wiped out Gallifrey. Now its back and making another stab at wiping out the Time Lords - can the Doctor fix it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you're not squeamish about this one... it's not going to be very pretty.  
> A/N-2: I researched quite a bit for this one to make sure that not only was treatment and how the flu works in a human correct, but also the biology of a Gallifreyan was reasonably accurate according to various sources, and my own leap of logic, as well as how a Gallifreyan & the Time Lords would react if this were to happen in canon. Here goes nothing...   
> A/N-3: I'm by far no expert. The best I can lay claim to in the medical world is as a Personal Support Worker and I retired from that and took up Finance as an Insurance Broker...

**INFLUENZA** :  Commonly referred to as the flu, is an infectious disease caused by RNA viruses of the family Orthomyxoviridae (the influenza viruses), that affects birds and mammals. The most common symptoms of the disease are chills, fever, sore throat, muscle pains, severe headache, coughing, weakness/fatigue and general discomfort.[1] Although it is often confused with other influenza-like illnesses, especially the common cold, influenza is a more severe disease than the common cold and is caused by a different type of virus.[2] Influenza may produce nausea and vomiting, particularly in children,[1] but these symptoms are more common in the unrelated gastroenteritis, which is sometimes called inaccurately "stomach flu."[3] Flu can occasionally cause either direct viral pneumonia or secondary bacterial pneumonia.[4]

\- Wikipedia(dot)org

  
**TIME LORD** :  The Time Lords and Time Ladies (sometimes called Lords of Time or, rarely, Chronarchs) were the oligarchic rulers of the planet Gallifrey, and thus also Gallifreyan ... The Gallifreyans possessed one of the oldest and most powerful civilizations in the Universe. As the Time Lords, they would hold absolute power for some ten million years. (DW: The Ultimate Foe) Eventually, however, the Last Great Time War wiped out the race. (DW: The End of the World, et al)

 - tardis(dot)wikia(dot)com

 

* * * * * * * * * * *

 

_The Time War was not the first time our race had been pushed to nearly extinction..._

_... A long time ago, before we were constrained to the Citadel, Gallifrey was populated by billions of Gallifreyans and tens of thousands of those who would eventually be called the Time Lords.  Our people were spread across the face of our planet in numerous cities and towns._

_And then an illness swept through our population, one that had not been introduced from outsiders or offworlders, but something that came from our people.  No one knows where exactly the first ones that fell ill were, but in the natural progression of a people not so constrained to travel among their own, it did not take long for it to escape where ever it started._

_Eventually, over fifty percent of our people were gravely ill... and then... seventy five._

_It was like the Black Plague in human history -- and it nearly wiped us out._

_We thought we defeated it..._

_...We were wrong.  
_

 

A rare journal entry by "the Master"  
Circa 2022  
Released by UNIT in 2209 to the London Museum

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

  
The Doctor wasn't one to sit around and mope.  In fact, after she realized that not only was the TARDIS stuck in the past by a few million years, give or take, while she was stuck in New New York, she made her way back to the Brannigans and sat down in a visitor's chair in dejected silence.  Thomas and Valerie took this to mean that things had not gone to plan.  
  
"Uh oh, that's not a good look," said Thomas.  
  
"I am stuck approximately five million years away from when I should be," she answered.  "My ship, my beautiful time ship, is in the past and I am here."  
  
"Well, what?" he asked in surprise.  "Did you say time ship?"  
  
"I did.  My TARDIS, in fact.  Which means another Time Lord saw fit to remove me from my comfort zone and brought me here for some reason.  I don't know what, why or how to return to my ship.  I have no trace to track them, and I do not know who it was in specific," answered the Doctor, as she looked up at their pale faces.  "What?"  
  
"You're a Time Lord?  Of Gallifrey?" asked Valerie, her eyes wide.  
  
"I was born on Gallifrey, yes, and I attended and graduated from the Time Lord Academy... oh... right. Mythical being... it's not that glamourous, really," she finished.  
  
"When you put it that way," said Valerie.  "Well, I guess there's no way around it.  You'll have to stay with us."  
  
"She will?" asked Thomas, his ginger furred face taking on a rather surprised look, but with a glare from Valerie, he found himself suddenly agreeing.  "Oh, of course you will!"  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Master wasn't exactly in the greatest of moods.  His wife of over sixty years had finally passed away.  It was a peaceful passing, attended to the proper company of Lords and other dignitaries of the Spanish Empire.  The Queen had even showed up, and laid a gentle hand on his arm in condolence.  "She was a woman unlike any other, and her hospitality during a trying time will never be forgotten, old friend," said Isabella, who, despite being quite young at the time of her marriage, was not as young as she used to be.  
  
"She certainly was," he agreed thoughtfully.  
  
It was rare that he found himself attached to any person, but Lady Maria had been unlike any he had met.  Granted, it could have been the fact that she was a proper Spanish Lady with proper ideals, for the time, and her financial and property assets had certainly brought him no complaint.  
  
Isabella looked over at him, mistaking his quiet for sorrow.  "You are... well for your age, Lord Enrique... you could take another wife."  
  
"At my age?  Bah, a mere slip of a girl could not replace what I lost, nor would I force such innocence into saddling herself with a man old enough to be her grandfather."  A couple of times over.  "It wouldn't be fair to her.  I wouldn't know what to do with her, and she would be unsatisfied in her matrimonial due."  
  
"A shame," mused Isabella, and then he remembered that King Ferdinand had passed a few years before Maria and connected the dots in her logic.  
  
"Unless you've another person in mind?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, I did have someone else in mind... someone that would rather not be saddled with some slip of a young man with eyes only for a certain fortune... and a roving eye for other ladies if his wife could not satisfy his matrimonial due," she answered with a sly look.  "I realize it is very soon after Lady Maria's passing, but I find myself in need of a Consort to stave off the offers from foreign interests.  I have plenty of sons, daughters and others to marry off to satisfy those needs."  
  
The Master thought about this for a moment.  Marry yet another human -- never mind the significant financial and status gain -- and stay in this time period for even longer and risk being discovered?  Or take what he had, properly 'invest' it in the proper channels and neutral banks that did exist now and formed the framework for later banks, and pop back in a few generations as his own progeny to claim the profits?  
  
He did so appreciate the genteel atmosphere of Spain, though... primitive as it was.  They had a definite sense of luxury that offset that as well as a proper set of manners and peerage.  "A very, very attractive offer... so soon after losing Maria... alas... what a position you have put me in, Isabella."  
  
She again set a delicate hand upon his.  "Do not think you have to make a decision now -- I would not be so crass -- but please, give it some thought.  If you remain here I will understand... but if you show up in Madrid when court has not been called to call upon me, I will rejoice."  
  
"Would it make you happy if I did?" he chuckled.  
  
"I will admit, as a young girl, I had my eye on you.  You are... unlike... the others and I would explore how unlike you are."  
  
He made a face that was mockingly scandalous.  "My Queen, I think my heart has just skipped a beat in shock.  I am old enough to be your father."  
  
"Not so old as you think," she mentioned demurely.  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Doctor had been living with the Brannigans for months, and then those months turned into years.  She felt the time passing keenly and knew that by now her Companions had likely noticed she was missing.  Unless, they too, were missing and she just hadn't found them yet.  The worst part was that she had no way of knowing.  A part of her wished that she had been brought here before one of her grandfather's visits... either with Rose or Martha... so that she could have hopped a ride back.  
  
The other part of her knew that it would have changed things drastically for her grandfather in either case.  In the first case she was sure the shock might have caused him to keel over.  In the second case he would have misinterpreted the Face of Boe's warning to mean her and not the Master.  
  
Thomas sat down beside her.  "I can see how working at that agency is driving you mad."  
  
"It keeps me busy," she answered.  
  
"Valerie and I were talking, and we figured you might like your own space."  She looked up.  "Not that you're not welcome here -- you are -- but the living arrangements are kind of tight.  We were thinking of buying a bigger place and you're welcome to live there."  
  
"Are you short of money?" she asked.  
  
"Well, we've a good down-payment," he rubbed his chin.  
  
She handed him a credit stick.  "Use that."  
  
He looked at it, and then read the balance.  His feline eyes widened and the slits of his pupils dilated. "With that kind of money, you could live like a queen and you rather stay with us?  I'm touched, and honoured."  
  
"Is it enough?"  
  
"Cats above, we could get a big place in the best part of the city if we wanted.  Penthouse suites!"  He let a warble of laughter, slapping his knee as he did so.  "Out here in the country we can get a good size estate.  Doctor, you're rich.  You're beyond rich!"  
  
Just then a wind picked up.  Thomas hissed a bit at the sudden change, but the Doctor stood up to face it.  A crackle of energy split the air, and Thomas backed off.  
  
A familiar fading in and fading out noise filled the air and she smiled in joy.  Turning back to the alarmed Thomas.  "There's nothing to be afraid of... I've been found by my people!"  
  
At her reassurance, his fur laid back down again and he stepped up beside her just as the white column materialized in the clearing and turned solid.  The noise wound down as the engines settled.  "That's not my TARDIS," said the Doctor.  
  
Moments later the Master stepped out.  He was a bit older than she remembered him, but not by much.  He now wore a fine Italian suit in a modern cut, but he still favoured the same hair and goatee as he had in Spain.  It was like staring at the first Master her grandfather had encountered back in the seventies, only with the face of the much younger one known as Harold Saxon.  "Ah, Doctor, just the person I was looking for..."  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT ONE**

* * * * * * * *

  
The Doctor had warily walked back onto the Master's TARDIS and he had smoothly piloted his TARDIS into the vortex.  Moments later, he turned to her.  His expression was unreadable but it was eerily like that when she first had met him.  The suit, hair and goatee was all the same.  It set her teeth on edge.  
  
This was the man that had murdered her David Campbell in cold blood, right in front of her, before turning his gun on her grandfather and also shooting him.  He had then kidnapped her and taken her far from her home and her son.  What plans he had for her beyond 'meat shield' she had not known, and she didn't want to know now.  
  
"I see you got your TARDIS back," she said coolly.  
  
He looked up again, and the expression slipped.  One of true sorrow replaced it for mere seconds before the mask slammed back down again.  "Ah, yes, I did."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Relatively simple, actually... I walked up, produced my key... which I have never, ever, lost, by the way... and unlocked the door and promptly piloted into the vortex before Torchwood in the 22nd century realized I was there.  Clean, no fatalities or casualties..." He looked over at her and, saw her cautious relief.  "Don't worry, my dear Doctor, I had no desire to cause more waves in that time period than I already had."  
  
"Trying to relocate yourself to another time period and didn't want to be recognized as a wanted criminal in yet another time period?" she asked too sweetly to be altogether friendly.  
  
"As a matter of face, yes," he answered, purposely choosing to ignore the too sweet overtones.  "Stop that, it's not becoming of the name you've chosen to take."  
  
The Doctor stared at him and then started laughing.  The Master was more than a bit surprised at her reaction, and more so that the tables had turned.  Usually it was him doing the laughing, not the Doctor.  "As if you have any right to judge me after everything you put me through," she pointed out, and then held up her hand before he could say anything.  "And before you point out the obvious that you could have left me stranded in New New York, let me point out the even more painfully obvious -- you only did it because you had something to gain.  Something that you know only I can do for you because I'm the only Time Lord, other than Autumn and Innocet, that knows you still live.  Innocet is likely dead, and Autumn is in the middle of the New Citadel and a few thousand other Gallifreyans.  But, here I was, stranded where no one would know you... and even if someone figured you were a Time Lord... nice entrance by the way... they wouldn't know which Time Lord in specific.  You need me, ergo, you came and got me at a point where I was more likely to say yes.  There is no charity to this incredible 'rescue'."  
  
The Master sighed heavily.  "All right, I grant you that point."  This time he quelled her before she could go off on him again.  "However, I will admit that I am more inclined to help you even if you don't help me."  
  
"What?" she asked in confusion.  
  
"Look, I won't use them as an excuse but it wasn't like I was myself.  Not completely.  I will admit that I'm a self serving arse, but no more than the usual Time Lord on the Council and that, my dear, includes your own."  He walked around the console and leaned on it, facing away from it but towards her, his hands held in a vaguely 'I surrender' motion.  "I am sorry for what I did to you... to your family directly... especially for my actions in 22nd century England."  
  
"When you murdered my husband and left my grandfather for dead."  
  
"Yes, quite."  He was quiet for some time, still leaning on the console.  "My current actions will not absolve past sins, but if getting you back to where you should be helps you, then so be it.  I will not demand anything in return, but I would be most obliged if you did."  
  
"So, if I help you, you owe me one?" she asked, her eyebrow raising.  
  
"Yes."  
  
She wasn't sure if she wanted to be owed a favour by the Master, but she had to admit that him admitting that he would was a huge leap forward in his own betterment.  She had to wonder how long it would last, but with a sigh, she already knew she couldn't leave him with no help.  He had rescued her -- simple as that.  "Very well, you have your help... though I am not sure how I can."  
  
He smiled, and unlike his usual 'cat swallowed the canary' smiles, this one was a true one.  "Thank you, Doctor.  I knew you would, of course, you _are_ like him in that regard, but I didn't want to impose.  Not for this."  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Master pushed open the doors of his TARDIS, taking a deep breath as he did so.  Moments later, the Doctor pushed her way past him and into the park.  Her own TARDIS was not far away, and she could sense the rightness that meant it was when she ought to be, not only where.  She turned to the Master.  "I... suppose I should thank you.  You did as you said you would."  
  
He could hear the disbelief in her voice.  "I am a man of my word... always was, if you remember."  
  
"That I will grant you," she admitted.  "Now, about that favour."  
  
"I figured I would give you a few moments, or an hour, to re-familiarize yourself with your own TARDIS and let your friends know you are all right.  I could not return you to the exact moment of your disappearance as the eddies in the Vortex would have caused me to overshoot and possibly get you back here before you were taken," he explained, a bit sheepishly, but there was a note of deep concern as well.  "Whomever took you are not being careful in their transits in the Vortex... and that concerns me."  
  
"House Paradox," she murmured.  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"It was House Paradox," she answered a bit louder as they walked across the park towards Grace's house.  "When I woke in New New York, I hid under the bed." She glared at his chuckle.  "Not the most original, I know, but I heard them speak of House Paradox.  Not to mention it was in the Matrix."  
  
The Master stopped dead, his face paling at her words.  "It was in the what?!"  
  
"They have an inferior copy... based on themselves and some of the copied bio-data from Gallifrey.  Very, very degraded but it was still the Matrix," she answered.  "There were moments where I felt that the person they used to start it was my grandfather... and that he was still connected and maintaining an illusionary world."  
  
"But you said yourself that's he's dead," said the Master, and by his tone she could tell he was uneasy with the entire subject.  "Unless it's an earlier version of him from before he died."  
  
"Entirely possible... we are a race that traverses time.  And somehow I don't believe that House Paradox would be constrained by the normal Laws of Time."  She took a moment to think and look around.   "Wait, there's something not right here..."  
  
It was too quiet.  It always had been a bit quiet near Grace's given the proximity to the park across the street from her and the cul de sac she lived near the end of.  However, the park had a bustling playground and community centre, both of which were usually busy at this time of day.  Today, in the middle of summer and near noon the park was deserted, as was the street.  
  
The Master began to move back towards his TARDIS, leaving the Doctor in the field.  Favour or no, she could sort this on her own.  The people of this world knew his face all too well as Harold Saxon and the United States probably wanted him dead for murdering one of their President Winter.  Being temporarily insane by hearing drums telepathically forced on him through mind-rape by another insane president on his home world likely wouldn't be a reasonable excuse in their eyes.  It was better to avoid the USA until after he regenerated next... if he regenerated next -- and that wasn't a theory he was willing to gamble on or test.  
  
His last glimpse of her before the doors of his TARDIS slammed shut was off black suited people converging on her from all sides.  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Doctor felt their presences and heard the rustle of branches before she saw them.  A group of people in black business suits converged on her in a slightly less than regular circle.  She looked around and noticed they were keeping their distance but the circle around her was definitely meant to prevent her from running away.  
  
She also noted, with great displeasure, that the Master had all but vanished.  
  
Typical.  
  
"Madam, we don't mean any harm... but it's absolutely imperative that you come with us," said one of the black suited people, a very slim dark haired woman with pointy, but not unattractive, features.  
  
"Why?' asked the Doctor, still wary but relaxing marginally.  
  
Willing to talk was good in a prospective opponent.  It meant that they didn't want to be against you per se, but felt they had no choice in the matter.  Those thin threads of doubt could be made much larger with the right words.  "Because, frankly, your life is in danger and we could use your aid.  Now, please, come with us," the woman said again.  
  
That was new.  Usually when the Doctor was faced with the come now or die situation it wasn't because people wanted to help her -- it was because they wanted to take her prisoner or felt she was trespassing.  The Doctor acquiesced, holding up her hands in surrender.  "That won't be necessary, Doctor, you're not a prisoner... but we are very concerned about you."  
  
The woman walked up to her finally, but the Doctor noted she did not hold out her hand to be shaken which was normal for North American humans to do in greeting.  Instead, she held out her hand to guide her away from Grace's and to a waiting car.  As they walked, the woman finally introduced herself and explained.  "My name is Special Agent Naomi Bailey and I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation."  By this time they were at the car and another agent opened the door to the car.  Bailey waited and the Doctor got in first with Bailey sitting next to her.  The door closed and she continued.  "A few weeks ago, a few of the Time Lords began to fall ill.  Neither they, or us, thought anything of it.  And then more fell ill..."  
  
"How many?" asked the Doctor, suddenly concerned.  
  
"Too many," answered Bailey gravely.  "The infection rate is a staggering 96% among those of Gallifreyan descent.  The only preventative measure any of us could do was total quarantine, although, humans are not affected.  It only seems to affect those with two hearts... but has little to do with the hearts except for the strain the illness causes."  
  
"What are the symptoms?"  The Doctor leaned back, her thoughts whirling.  
  
"It's like the human flu virus... in fact it starts the very same way, progresses the same, infects the same... causes the same failures, only with equivalent stresses in Gallifreyan physiology."  Bailey shook her head.  "I'm not the one to ask -- I'm not a doctor or an expert.  I only know what layperson would from what information I can glean from resources a layperson would understand.  When you disappeared a few months ago, there were concerns that you were the first casualty.  But Dr. Holloway and a Mr. Harkness refused to give up hope and had search parties set up.  We were assigned this area to watch just in case you showed up here."  
  
The Doctor was quiet for some time, and used her senses to feel out.  Now that she was significantly closer, it was easier to make contact.  _Donna?_  
  
 _Doctor?!  Oh, thank God!_ came Donna's psychic voice.  _Where the hell have you been?!_  
  
 _Long story -- how bad are things really?_  
  
A long silence was her answer.  _There's been deaths already... it's not looking very good._  
  
With a sigh, the Doctor leaned back into the cushions.  _And you... have you shown any indication that you or Jenny will fall ill... has anyone else in my family?_  
  
 _No, Doctor, we're fine!  They quarantined us in time, I guess.  What about you?_  
  
 _I appear to be fine as well... but only time will tell._  
  
The Doctor turned her attention back fully to Bailey.  "What were the first symptoms?"  
  
"Like I said, it's like the flu..."  
  
"Humour me and presume I don't know what the human flu is..."  
  
Bailey thought for a moment and then consulted her Blackberry as she pulled up the documents and files on the illness.  "Well, chills were reported, as were migraines with the visual auras and fever, as well as fatigue.  Cough from irritated respiratory systems, irritation to the eyes, nose, throat and mouth.  It's most infectious in the first few days, but symptoms don't appear until three to four days after infection... so..."  
  
"So the ill Gallifreyan won't even know they're ill while they're the most infectious and when they finally feel ill and show the symptoms they're no longer infectious and it's too late to prevent the spread.  Damn.  Nasty little blighter," the Doctor said, her brow furrowing in thought.  
  
"It causes respiratory failure, both primary and secondary failure... whatever that means, and the stress on the hearts causes heart failure, as well as the fever can cause systemic internal failure.  The symptoms worsen, and simply can fail to wake up... it appears the fatigue and exhaustive nature to the illness is no side affect from the others... it's a direct symptom... some of the most severe cases has resulted in coma-like slumber where the unfortunates are difficult to rouse and even if they are only considered semi-conscious," finished Bailey.  "Rarely results in nasal congestion, but attacks the respiratory bypass, but there was a fatality that where both were found to be quite congested."  
  
The Doctor didn't like this one bit, but now that she thought about it, it was suddenly familiar.  Like a spectre from the past, she remembered a history lesson of why the Time Lords and Gallifreyans had ended up in the Citadel and why Gallifrey had been dotted with ghost cities and abandoned towns.  This illness had struck them before and nearly wiped them out and now it had made a reappearance...  
  
... and this time it could wipe them out completely.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT TWO**

* * * * * * * *

  
The three months the Doctor had mysteriously gone missing had been tense ones.  
  
The first thing they had done was immediately look for the TARDIS and when they found it, and the cloister bell ringing within with ominous portent, Donna had immediately assumed the worst.  Grace had shook her head and said, "No, if she were dead the TARDIS would also be in a state of 'death' as they are linked.  They've been separated, but only in distance."  
  
Naturally, they had searched.  
  
Authorities were contacted and soon an all out search was called.  Both versions carrying the "CIA" -- both human and Gallifreyan -- were involved as was UNIT and Torchwood and other human agencies that normally dealt with missing persons.  They knew she was injured and they knew when and where she disappeared.  
  
The truly frightening part was that no one could find her.  
  
Autumn had visited, and while Grace was a bit nervous about having her Doctor's mother on the premises, and the great-grandmother of the current, she understood why the woman would be concerned.  
  
The search had tapered off and soon the Gallifreyan CIA had declared that there was not much else they could do and the search effort was called off.  For all intents, the Doctor was gone without a trace.  
  
Martha had visited with Jack and they had gone over the TARDIS with a fine tooth comb, but in relief Martha had said, "No signs of the Chameleon Arch having been used... she'll still know who she is and she should still be a Time Lord."  
  
"Are you saying there's a possibility she would be something else?" asked Sir Alistair.  
  
"Yes, I am," answered Martha.  "The original Doctor had to hide himself a human in 1913, and the Master did so to escape the Time War.  I will admit that with there being more than one TARDIS its entirely possible that whomever took her could have... I don't even want to think it."  
  
"Say it, Martha," said Donna, the dread pooling in her belly.  
  
"It's entirely possible that whomever took her force regenerated her and then Arched her so that not only do we not know what she will look like, but also she would have no idea who, or what, she is and therefore at their complete mercy," finished Martha darkly.  "If that happened there is literally no way we will ever pick up her trail until she manages to get herself out of trouble, opens the watch and reverses the process to even realize she needs to come back here."  
  
Months later the first Time Lords to fall victim to the 'Time Lord Flu' fell deathly ill.  One even died.  
  
At first, it was contained to only a few.  
  
But then it was raging through the Gallifreyan population like a wildfire during a dry season.  
  
In order to not only prevent the spread, but also to save those who had not yet fallen ill, it had been agreed that a total quarantine needed to be called.  Time Lords who were off world were told where to land and taken into immediate isolation until they either fell ill themselves or didn't.  Those on the planet instituted an immediate cessation to their travel and mingling.  New Gallifrey suddenly saw Time Lords with surgical masks over mouths and noses and wearing gloves in addition to their voluminous robes.  While these measures greatly curbed the spread, it didn't stop it.  
  
Those who were ill were cared for in facilities that were forced to use full quarantine and hazardous environment gear with shower checkpoints that doused the suits with disinfectant soap and disinfectant rinse.  
  
But yet it still ravaged the population.  
  
Biologists who specialized in rare and endangered species (albeit Earth derived and typically animal) were appalled and mobilized in droves to 'save the Time Lord' before they ended up extinct.  
  
And then the Doctor reappeared... just popping back into existence in the very park she likely disappeared from.  
  


* * * * * *

  
"Where the hell were you?" asked Martha when the Doctor walked through the door, escorted by the FBI.  
  
"It's a long story, but I ended up in New New York," answered the Doctor.  "Agent Bailey brought me up to speed.  I heard of this... a long time ago to our own history it nearly wiped us out."  
  
"Well, hopefully it won't wipe your kind out this time," said Martha decisively.  "I can tell you there is plenty of human support to help crack this one."  
  
"It's like the human cold, Martha, you can't crack it.  The only thing you can do is exactly what you're doing now... and come up with better ways to treat it.  Perhaps this time we can build up an immunity or vaccine that will lessen the effects, but I seriously doubt you can eradicate it."  The Doctor looked around.  "Ah, I see that is what you have been doing.  I knew I could count on you to figure it out."  
  
"Our team was the first to call it an influenza," said Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, and the Doctor grinned when she came up behind Martha.  "It has all the same hallmarks of a flu, but for the Gallifreyan biology.  So far it has not jumped species but we have been taking precautions to ensure that it doesn't."  
  
"Honestly, if it did I don't think it would do anything worse than a normal human flu," said the Doctor.  "My people are not known to get ill... but when we do... well, there's no happy medium."  
  
"In other words you have a fantastic immune system but if something finds one thing to take advantage of the system is overwhelmed," said Martha.  "Like the weak point on a dam.  But, in a human because our illnesses are a natural fact of life, if this were to attack us we already have systemic immunities to fight it off, even if it makes us miserable... like a river.  The potential is always there anyway."  
  
"Exactly my hypothesis," agreed the Doctor.  
  
"Have you had any contact with another Time Lord or Gallifreyan while you were gone?" asked Liz.  
  
For a moment, the Doctor hesitated, wondering if she should mention the Master.  Martha would react badly, she knew, as would Jack if he found out.  The desire to protect him was rather puzzling and not something she was used to feeling.  Not to mention what the Americans would do to "Harold Saxon" if they found him.  However, on the other hand, if she were infected that now meant he very likely was and his life was endangered anyway if she didn't.  If he fell ill with no one to help him it was likely he could, and would, die anyway.  It was the proverbial Catch Twenty-Two... either decision was rife with dangers for the Master.  
  
"I was... I suspect those who took me were Time Lords and a certain set of them that Donna, Jenny and I have run across already once before," answered the Doctor.  
  
Liz and Martha looked at each other and she could see the concern before they looked back.  "Doctor, much as I hate to say it, but that means you need to be quarantined now as well.  You may have caught it and there’s be no way to know until you fall ill... or not... in a few days."  There was a heavy sigh from Liz as she said this.  "Besides, it will give us a chance to give you a look over to see if your capture injured you in any way."  
  
"Very well," answered the Doctor as she allowed Martha to grasp her by the upper arm and lead her into through a hallway, through a set of plastic curtains and then into a glassed off room with an infection "airlock".  When the doors hissed shut with a decisive click and hiss of filtered air, the Doctor had a chance to look around her new surroundings.  It was little more than a private hospital room with areas meant to be private obscured from view by curtains on ceiling rails.  The bed was a wider, longer term style, hospital bed with full computer control in the rails.  The only furniture was a wardrobe, a bedside cabinet that was also low enough to use as a bedside table, and the ever familiar rolling table meant to be used as a feeding table over the bed but was adjustable for use with the only other chair in the room, which was a vinyl covered armchair.  
  
The only view outside of the room was a sealed quadruple, and shatterproof, window that was impossible to open that showed a fantastic view of the San Francisco skyline and the ocean beyond and, of course, the glass walls that could frost and clarify at the push of a button on either side, as well as from the bed, to either allow a nurse to see within or for the patient to gain privacy.  
  
It was a nice hospital room and meant to give the patient a sense of comfort and reasonable level of privacy as it wasn't shared but it there was no mistaking it for what it was.  Rather state of the art, really.  The Time Lord High Council and UN had really spared no expense to ensure proper care for her people, should they be in the city.  
  
Martha noted the somber mood that the Doctor sank into and rubbed her arm.  "Come on, cheer up.  It could be worse, you know..."  
  
The Doctor quirked a brow, but smiled at her attempt.  Martha motioned to the bed and the Doctor sat on it as Martha went into full medical mode.  She first checked the Time Lord's pulse and blood pressure, then listened to her breathing.  The Doctor was rather impressed that Martha had since learned to not only listen to both hearts, but had also learned to truly check them, as well as both her primary respiration and secondary, the "bypass".  Martha checked her over completely, tutting in concern at some things from when the Doctor had been strapped into the Matrix and rather pleased with others, all things considered, listening while the Doctor brought Martha up to speed about Brannigan and Valerie and how New New York had, again, changed since the Roadway and their part in freeing the people of the Roadway to live in the sun again.  
  
"Well, you appear to be healthy, but it is still early for symptoms to show yet," said Martha once she finished.  "I do think you could benefit by a shower and some rest, though, and perhaps some food and tea."  
  
"That'd be fantastic," said the Doctor in whole-hearted agreement.  "Where are Donna and Jenny?"  
  
"They're here too, but down the hall from you.  Jenny caught it, but fought it off.  If I have to guess, once a person has fought it off they're out of danger... even if it mutates enough for her to catch it again later her immune system will have the trick of it and, like you said, it will be like a normal flu for a human," answered Martha.  "Donna, by some miracle, didn't catch it... or if she did she barely felt it."  
  
"That's good, in a way.  It means it's not as virulent as the last time and that we've managed to build up immunities.  Keep in mind that Donna also used to be one hundred percent human and her new Gallifreyan gene code is from a human-Gallifreyan metacrisis... she has the best, but also worse, of both worlds... if she caught this it is possible it was as you said."  The Doctor thought for a moment.  "Did she show any symptoms?"  
  
"Well, she was tired at the same time Jenny was sick, and she said she felt a slight headache and had a stuffed nose... but she self-treated it with a menthol rub, a cold cloth, and sleep.  A few days later, she was up and around like nothing happened," answered Martha, and she saw the Doctor smile.  "That was it, wasn't it?"  
  
The Doctor nodded.  "What about Jenny?"  
  
"She was far worse.  She said she felt as if someone took a sledge to her head, the light hurt and things glowed around other things... the full migraine with an aura, would be my guess... and she needed a nebulizer to help with the congestion.  She coughed, a lot, and was off her feet for almost a week," answered Martha.  "And then she started to get better.  Donna helped with her once it became clear that Donna couldn't catch it... or, now as you've figured out, she already had it but got over it and so is immune to the current strain."  
  
"If it's like the flu, why all the precautions?" asked the Doctor, and then she saw Martha's face darken with the weight of news that would not be good.  
  
"They're the exception to the rule.  A lot of the Time Lords who got sick were not as lucky as Donna and Jenny," answered Martha.  "The ones from Gallifrey... they needed to be put in Intensive Care as the virus ravaged them.  Some... some didn't make it when it weakened them to the point where pneumonia set in.  They died from respiratory failure."  
  
The Doctor fell silent at this, knowing how traumatic it would have been to the younger doctor.  Respiratory failure in a Gallifreyan was as horrible as human respiratory failure, only it was a far longer and drawn out process as both systems failed.  If the main system for breathing failed, there was a bypass, but it would only last so long as the Gallifreyan became painfully aware of their impending death from a complete system failure.  It was painful, as painful as it was for a human, but because of the sheer length of time a Gallifreyan had that a human didn't, the pain would only escalate until the secondary, the bypass, failed and the sensation of drowning set in.  
  
When this very rare way for a Gallifreyan to die happened it was usually hoped that the panic would set off a heart failure, which was a far quicker way to die, and end the pain.  The only other recourse was sedating the dying Gallifreyan to keep them comfortable, but they were still aware of it happening...  
  
The Doctor shuddered but noticed what Martha wasn't saying.  "Who?"  
  
"Autumn.  I'm so sorry, Doctor, but Autumn didn't make it..."  
  
The keening wail of mourning was heard not only by those with ears, but also with the ability to sense psychically.  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT THREE**

* * * * * * * *

  
The Master was in the Vortex with the worst case of indecision he had ever had in any of his regenerations when he felt it.  It felt like the first time a young Susan Foreman-Campbell had set her hands on the telepathic circuits of his TARDIS and fried him psychically, only it left him gasping and with tears running down his face instead of in a painful heap of more pain on the floor.  
  
 _What was that?_ he wondered as he got up, and then the Cloister Bell of his TARDIS began to ring.  It was like someone close to him had screamed in pain and loss... like thousands had.  
  
The aftereffect was still there, but also the feeling that whatever it was it was still happening.  Without even realizing what he was doing, he had set the coordinates to the proclaimed 'New Gallifrey' on Earth, but when he went to dematerialize he found that the locational coordinates had been rerouted to a place a bit nearer to the coast, but not in the city.  
  
He scanned outside and noted that it was a temporary dome, a camp, of some sort.  Warily, he stepped outside and was immediately approached by people in those funny plastic environmental suits that humans only wore if there was some sort of pandemic.  "Sir, if you would... _HOLY SHIT_ , it's the bleeding Prime Minister!" came one of their voices.  "Sir, we thought you died!"  
  
"Ah, uncanny resemblance perhaps, but I think you're mistaken..." he said, smiling, adopting the accent he'd had in Spain.  "I have no idea what you're talking about.  Been off planet for some time.  Closest I've been is medieval Spain, sorry."  
  
There was some uneasy looks but he bowed slightly.  "My name is Enrique De La Porta, if you were to look it up, Lord Mayor of Valladolid... until my dear wife the Lady Maria died.  She was human, but so full of life..."  
  
"I'm sorry for your loss, sir," said the other one.  "Is there a Gallifreyan name we can call you instead of your historical human one?"  
  
"I once used the name Koschei, so I suppose that will do for now," he answered.  "What can I do for you?"  
  
"All Gallifreyans are under voluntary quarantine due to the H5N8 virus that infects, unfortunately, your people," answered the one that had first recognized him as Harold Saxon.  "My name is Dr. Destin Omar, and these are my colleagues Dr. Ryan Connor and Rory Williams."  
  
"A pleasure gentleman, and lady," he tipped his hand in greeting.  "Now, you were saying about this virus?"  
  
"Very nasty," said Dr. Connor.  "Attacks the respiratory systems as well as other areas, and causes death in weaker victims through pneumonia and sometimes internal organ failure.  There has been some casualties already, no matter what we do to save them."  
  
The Master felt as if someone had kicked him in the groin.  A virus?  One that attacked the Gallifreyan in specific?  Something, a memory from the Academy and his history lessons, tickled in his memory but he hadn't really liked that class much and so typically zoned out during it to instead concentrate on other things that interested him far more, such as Ushas... ah... school days...  
  
But it explained the mourning keen where the natural background noise of the others of his race was in his head.  "I haven't been sick, nor do I think I am ill."  
  
"It's very important, but have you been in contact with any other Gallifreyan or Time Lord in your travels before you returned?" asked Dr. Omar.  
  
"I..." The Master hesitated.  "I have been, actually.  Back in the past... the Doctor and her companions, as well as a particular criminal by the name of the Inquisitor.  Sort of set my nice little world on its head, if you take my meaning."  
  
"Were any of them ill?" asked Rory.  
  
"No."  
  
There was a visible sigh of relief, but it was shattered when Omar pointed out, "We have to take you into quarantine anyway, and check you over.  Unfortunately, the most infectious stage of the virus is when there are absolutely no symptoms.  After that, ironically, it's the least infectious but also the most visible."  
  
Oh crap, muttered the Master internally.  That meant he could have caught it from any of the four and not known about it at all.  "Very well, just let me lock up my TARDIS."  He turned and locked it, and then turned back to them.  "Well, may as well get this over with."  
  
They led him into the compound.  Little did he realize that his living conditions, while better than they could have been given it was a temporary camp, were still not as nice as the Doctor's.  Instead of glass and solid drywall walls with chair rails and pictures, he had what was modular military infirmary camp, complete with army green sheets and blankets.  It wasn't tents, but the airdropped 'trailers' were very basic and made of exuded plastic and titanium framing with expanding foam as insulation.  
  
They were well environmentally sealed and climate controlled -- a far cry from the MASH tents of the Korean war, but the look and feel was the same and the beds were little more than pop up cots.  The quarantine was maintained by a series of thick plastic sheets that was treated so that the separation points resealed themselves.  
  
It was a level of quarantine that truly stunned the Master.  This was only ever pulled out if the risk of infection was so high and the severity of illness so great that it was considered a strict quarantine with a bit of extraterrestrial measures from the seventies and the Apollo missions thrown in.  It was a bit too much like that Steven Spielberg movie from the eighties -- the one that he never could remember the name of and quite frankly didn't care to.  The eighties weren't his favourite human era.  Rumour had it there was another Time Lord that couldn't get enough of them... some sort of fashion designer that most jokingly blamed shoulder pads on, even if she hadn't been responsible for them she had loved them a bit too much in her own designs.  
  
But that was neither here nor there... even if at the present moment it was all he had to do.  
  
The unfortunate part was that he was literally bored to tears in the first five minutes.  There was nothing to read, nothing to write in, no access to the internet for any reason, not even a television or any music.  
  
One hour, thirty-two minutes and five seconds later, and a few microseconds, a man came in and ran him through a series of extensive tests to check his general health.  Pronouncing him clean and healthy for now, except for an unfortunate case of lice nits in his clothing.  His clothes were taken from him to be deloused, but he was reassured that they would be returned to him in fine order and any damage would be repaired.  He was then sent through a delousing bath and shower himself, which he spent a bit longer in than was truly necessary but it felt so good to have a proper shower again.  
  
When he came out and was rechecked, the nurse then said he was clean and healthy... for now... and that he would be watched over for another seven days which was approximately double the incubation period.  Afterwards, he would be allowed to mingle with others who passed through the quarantine on a restricted basis and quarantine level of hygiene would be compulsory whenever he changed areas, including to travel back into his own room.  "I would love something to keep my mind occupied... that hour I was alone in here was enough to drive a man mad with boredom."  
  
"Would a tablet with general access to the internet suffice for now?" asked the nurse, a pleasant young woman.  "Unfortunately, we have no hardbound books."  
  
"Is is also capable of cellular or satellite phone access?"  
  
"Cellular, yes," she answered a bit warily.  
  
"I still have family and friends I could contact, and would like to contact, even if I cannot do so in person," he explained.  "It would so help the feeling of isolation from being so... isolated... if you understand my meaning."  
  
"Of course, I'll have it arranged and it should be provided to you as soon as possible.  Unfortunately, all I have in the meantime is a very used book of Sudoku."  She appeared quite apologetic.  "I can see if anyone has anything else."  
  
With that she left and the Master was again left to his own devices.  Moments later she returned.  "Unfortunately, you can't have that book, but they provided this a whole lot sooner than I thought.  Evidently, they foresaw the need."  In her hands was the promised tablet.  "Here is the information for the cellular access."  
  
"Wonderful!" he exclaimed as he accepted the plastic wrapped box.  
  
It was obvious that it had already been unwrapped and the re-wrapped, with a clear orange tape marked "CLEAN - Okay for use in quarantine" holding it closed.  "They had to check each component to make sure that there was no trace of the virus on it.  Our technicians swapped each piece with strong alcohol three times.  It is a very stubborn virus, but these measures seem to control its spread."  
  
"I am sure it will be fine, thank you," he answered as he opened it and checked it over.  
  
There was no signs of tampering, or of spy bugs, on or in the device or any part of the box.  In fact, some of the manufacturer's bugs that allowed some governments to use it as a tracing bug had been painstakingly removed.  Probably a demand from the Time Lord High Council.  Privacy was a big thing on Gallifrey.  It was extremely bad taste to pry into another's private affairs unless absolutely necessary, and the red tape an investigator... even the Gallifreyan CIA... had to go through to have such restrictions removed were extreme and didn't really aid much.  It made criminal investigations rather difficult, but most Time Lords and Gallifreyans rather enjoyed the cerebral challenge of catching a criminal while others enjoyed being criminal.  
  
The proverbial game of cat and mouse was highly evolved on Gallifrey, more so than human where things were always premeditated and very rarely spur of the moment.  
  
The Doctor had been a rather large exception to the rule.  
  
The nurse left him to his own devices and the Master wasted no time in getting the tablet online.  It was a rather nice tablet, utilizing a Microsoft operating system.  Completely touch screen and very, very thin and lightweight.  It was like holding a sheet of paper, or piece of cardboard.  It had a stylus so he could write as if with a pen.  
  
It was far more powerful than the laptops in 2008, but given the year he had returned to he wasn't surprised.  
  
He waited until it registered itself and when it asked for a name he hesitated.  If he used Koschei of Oakdown there wasn't a single Time Lord who wouldn't instantly know who he really was, and using Harold Saxon was definitely out.  The Master wasn't a wise choice either, and using his name from Spain was... well... that man was dead to history.  Long dead.  
  
As unwise as it was, he really had no choice.  He was known anyway to the Time Lords.  Sure, his name would mean nothing to the humans, but he knew the Council would soon be in contact.  
  
He, thankfully, wasn't considered a criminal by Time Lord standards anymore... he was definitely MIA, though.  
  
With that decision made he made his entry.  
  
     **Given name** :  Arphenionebindronyrn  
     **Family name** : Dorontyrn  
     **Other names/alias** :  Koschei of House Oakdown, Enrique De La Porta, The Master  
     **Preferred name** : The Master  
  
Using the Master wasn't the wisest decision, but it would be very shortly that he would be called it anyway.  There was no point in hiding it as the Council or their representatives would know him anywhere anyway and thankfully he wasn't in the USA anymore... or Britain, come to think of it.  He was on his own people's territory and if he wasn't mistaken some countries had a Statute of Limitation anyway.  
  
And if it were necessary, he could escape again and simply disappear for awhile.  
  
Provided he didn't catch this damn bug.  
  


* * * * * *

  
A few hours later, he wasn't surprised to see two very familiar... but not friendly... faces in his little slice of heaven.  "Brigadier General Alistair Lethbridge Stewart... and Jack Harkness.  I knew it would be fast, but I didn't expect a matter of hours."  
  
"Not only should you be dead, and I was there, but you have a lot of gall showing up again," said Jack.  
  
"If it's any consolation, this wasn't exactly planned."  
  
"Then why bother with your real name?" asked Alistair.  "I presume that this is your real name."  
  
"It is, as well as my old nickname from the Time Lord Academy, what I'm known as where I consider my home to be, and of course what you always called me," answered the Master.  
  
Jack was watching him cautiously and the Master knew what was running through the immortal's mind.  This wasn't the insane and unhinged man, although he looked like him, that he remembered.  This wasn't the same charismatic man either.  "I am not cursed by the drums anymore," he answered Jack's unspoken question.  "They were finally taken from me.  That mind rape is no longer ravaging my psyche, but what I did while under their influence is still a fresh memory."  
  
The two men were quiet, but he could see that it was not enough for Jack to remotely forgive him.  Not that the Master was looking for it.  He didn't care if Jack Harkness ever did like him, nor the others.  But he would like to be left alone after this was said and done.  
  
"You're still the Master," said Alistair.  
  
"Indeed."  The Master shrugged.  "Such as I was."  
  
"So, what happened out there?" asked Jack.  
  
"Why do you care?  You probably want me dead right now... permanently... and frankly I wouldn't blame you."  
  
"Are you sure he's not showing signs of the virus?" asked Jack to someone outside.  
  
"Positive!" came Dr. Omar's voice.  
  
The Master sighed.  "I have paid for my sins with death, Jack Harkness.  I have no plans or great desires for world domination."  
  
Maybe it was the real resignation in his voice, the lacklustre response as he laid back on the bed, but the two men walked out.  Before they were gone, the Master managed to summon enough energy to ask, "So, what will you do now?"  
  
"Not a thing that you aren't plainly already doing to yourself," came Sir Alistair's voice.  
  


* * * * * *

  
A few days later and the Master learned some disturbing news.  First, he had been exposed to the virus because the Doctor was exhibiting symptoms.  The fact that she was showing them so soon meant that whomever had her in the first place had the virus and she had caught it from them.  Given the time frame, it also meant that he had been in direct contact with her during the most infectious stage of the virus.  
  
"You are quite sure on the timing of this?" he asked when Jack told him.  
  
"Absolutely sure, why?" asked Jack, suddenly suspicious.  
  
"Good lord, man, how do you think she got back?!" exclaimed the Master, showing more energy than he had felt for the past few days.  
  
Suddenly he suspected he knew why.  
  
Jack's eyes widened.  "Did you have anything to do with her disappearance?"  
  
"No, in fact it was by pure chance that I found her in the first place.  I was going to New New York to make contact with a banker to open an account when my TARDIS found signs of a Time Lord in Manhattan.  When I discovered who it was..." The Master shook his head and laid back.  "Damn."  
  
"Are you feeling ill?" asked Jack.  
  
"Quite possibly, but all I feel at present is tired... fatigued."  
  
"You do realize that's one of the symptoms?"  
  
"I had not.  Damn."  
  
Jack rapped on the plastic window and a nurse came in.  "He's showing symptoms," explained Jack.  "He was in contact with another Time Lord a few days ago... and she's already very ill with the virus.  He was showing symptoms but didn't realize he was... fuck... now that I think about it he was showing milder signs of it the last time I was here too."  
  
"You know I'm still pretty much lucid here, right?" came the Master's sardonic reply to the fuss being made over him.  "Captain, I didn't think you cared either."  
  
"I don't, frankly, but I know someone I cared about once did care if you lived or died and because he did I will in his stead," retorted Jack.  "But don't think I'm doing it out of anything other than that."  
  
"I won't."  There was another awkward silence.  "How is the Doctor doing?"  
  
"Ah," said Jack uncertainly.  "You remember which Doctor we're speaking of, right?"  
  
"Female, likes me less than you do, but still rather easy on the eyes... for Rassilon's sake don't let her know I said that out loud," answered the Master.  "Still lucid... of course I remember that the original is dead and gone!"  
  
"At least the first statement proves you're a living male," answered the nurse, and both her and Jack ignored the Master's eye roll at this.  
  
"You didn't answer the question," said the Master drily.  
  
Jack hesitated, not sure how much to tell him.  "She's not doing well.  Not in danger, yet, but not well.  She sleeps most of the time and when she's awake enough she tries her best to help Liz and Martha."  
  
"With?"  
  
"Coming up with a workable vaccine and antiviral drug to lessen the symptoms," answered Jack, and he saw the nurse look up sharply, hope plainly in her eyes.  "Martha is using her blood as the base, as well as Donna and Jenny's and hoping that the antibodies help in forming something to help others."  
  
"You're not telling me something... what brought me back was this keening wail of mourning... a deep sadness from through the Vortex.  How many have we already lost?" he asked, clutching Jack's arm as things began to fade out as he exhausted himself.  "Who have we lost?"  
  
"Autumn of Lungbarrow," answered Jack sadly.  
  
The Master ran a tired hand down his face, trying to not let that swamp him.  Autumn had been the kinder of the Time Lords and her house was one of the reasons his childhood had been... bearable.  If not for the Doctor's mother he wouldn't have met the other boy, or become his friend.  They had saved each other from a deep loneliness for what little snatches of time they had when so much younger.  Before the Academy.  
  
Before the Schism.  
  
He didn't cry for her.  Not in front of these humans and likely not ever in front of anyone, but his sorrow was deeper than he expected.  He'd thought his hearts were sealed and locked away behind steel but her kindness and her loss was like taking another strike squarely to the groin.  
  
"When?"  
  
"She was, unfortunately, one of the first," answered Jack.  "Went to sleep at Sir Alistair's and never woke up again.  Went into a sleeping sort of coma and then everything just failed."  
  
"Was... she in pain?"  
  
"Not that I know of." Jack frowned at the unexpected turn of questioning.  "She wasn't alone, either, if that is what you are asking.  The Brig was there until she breathed her last.  Poor man, I think he liked her.  She sort of took a place in his soul after losing Doris.  I don't think either of them expected it.  He hasn't really been the same since."  
  
"Jack, swear to me that you won't tell anyone, but I know when... and it's fixed."  
  
Jack leaned in and the Master whispered the truth of something into his ear, and when Jack pulled back, his eyes wide.  "How?" asked Jack shakily.  
  
"I never knew why myself and I will admit I had rather hoped it would be with my fingers around his neck... but I can see that wasn't to be.  If Autumn... never mind... it's nothing."  
  
Jack finally connected the dots.  The original Doctor had said they were childhood friends... and now he knew who had truly, possibly, raised the Master and the Doctor and why the Master was as deeply wounded at her loss as everyone else.  Jack looked down.  "I'm truly sorry about Autumn and that you had to hear it from me."  
  
The Master shook his head, and the nurse looked up.  "It's no use, he's fallen into the same coma as the others."  
  


* * * * * * * *

**ACT FOUR**

* * * * * * * *

  
Martha watched over the Doctor as Liz took her vitals again.  As she shook her head, running a gentle hand through the Doctor's sweat soaked hair, smoothing it as best she could as the Time Lord moaned and tossed in the throes of her delirium.  Donna sat at the Doctor's bedside, holding her limp hand, reaching for it when she twitched that hand out of the other woman's grasp in the grip of some nightmare.  
  
Some hours before, Liz had made a tiny breakthrough in making the vaccine.  Unfortunately, it was only useful for those who hadn't yet caught it to alleviate the severity should they catch it.  So far every single Gallifreyan who received it had either skipped getting sick or, more promising, if they had fallen ill the effects were little worse than a regular human flu.  
  
The phone rang and Liz picked it up.  "I don't understand why that'd be important... all right, if you say so.  How is that patient doing?  Ah..."  
  
Martha listened to the one sided conversation with half an ear, and when Liz hung up the phone, she asked, "Who was that?"  
  
"Jack.  He said it would mean something to you, but that a patient in Antarctica isn't doing so well either... a certain patient that prefers the name 'the Master', in fact."  Liz backed up at the suddenness of Martha's and Grace's reaction.  "All right, it means something."  
  
"How can he still be alive?!" exclaimed Martha, whipping around in shock.  "I saw him die.  The Doctor told me there was no coming back from that... he had to hold a proper funeral for him and everything..."  
  
"He always comes back," murmured Grace in a haunted tone.  "Always.  Even when he shouldn't.  Even when he's just ash... he always finds a way."  
  
"Jack said he's not the same as you, or him, remembers him.  He looks like the Master, sounds like him... except for where it counts.  It's strange and it weirds him out.  It's like someone else regenerated to look like the Master and then did the same as this Doctor did for her grandfather," explained Liz.  "Except that Jack knows it's really him."  
  
"I don't get it," said Grace.  
  
"Something about the drums not being in his head, or something like that--"  
  
"-- Rassilon mind raped the Master into becoming what you remember," explained Donna.  "The insane, over the top, individual... was being tormented and constantly prodded into doing what he thought was his own will.  It was like being drugged into a stupor, but your body still moves, your lips still talk.  You still can think but those thoughts are not your own, but you're so far gone that you can't tell the difference... until finally that death grip on your soul is released and you fall like a puppet with cut strings.  The drums were the Master's strings, and Rassilon was the puppeteer.  When the Doctor, our Doctor, cut those strings and sent Rassilon back into the hell that was the Time Lock, the Master went into a rage and finished off Rassilon.  That's how Autumn was rescued... the Master used a Vortex Manipulator and jumped out before the Time Lock closed completely.  He took back control of his mind and took those who would be Rassilon's slaves out of the same hell.  He's been wandering ever since... not sure what to do with himself... he's been a slave so long that he's not sure what he's the Master _of_ anymore."  
  
No one quite knew what to say of that, but Donna snapped back to herself, blinking in surprise.  "That is never as easy as anyone says it is!" she rubbed her forehead.  "Ow."  
  
"What the hell was that?!" asked Liz.  
  
"She read the time-lines," said Grace.  "You saw his time-line, didn't you?"  
  
"His past and present, and they're so tangled.  I think I saw, for just a quick second, his future... but only because he's... there's something coming and I think he's needed," she said.  "Something terrible that will make this seem like a walk in the park."  
  
Donna wasn't sure what these little fits were, but she was certain it was something the Doctor had forgotten to tell her in the excitement of remembering without burning up due to the metacrisis.  A side effect of becoming Gallifreyan, at least partially, when Drax had regenerated and brought her along for the ride.  These little moments where she could everything left her with a bit of a headache, but nothing like it could have been.  
  
But that was neither here nor there at the present.  
  
While Martha and Liz, and their team, had worked out a vaccine for those who had not yet had the virus to lessen the effect, they had not found a way to lessen the effect for those already in its grip other than to strategically treat the symptoms, let the person rest and give plenty of fluids and vitamins to keep up their strength.  
  
Roughly eighty five percent of the Gallifreyan population was currently afflicted with the illness, with ten percent who had already succumbed and died and a discouraging five percent who had received the vaccine before ever being exposed to the virus and currently in quarantine.  
  
And the death toll was rising sharply.  
  
Martha had already seen the list of the dead and noticed, like that of humans, the extremely old and ill had been the first to not only fall ill, but also die.  In those first cases the deaths equalled those infected...  Catching it had been a death sentence.  As the victims grew younger and healthier, they had held out longer, but even they began to die.  There had been hope considering these were the healthy and strong ones, but they ravaged those.  
  
The first outright, active,Time Lord fatality had shook the delicate structure of their people to the core when Autumn succumbed and died in Sir Alistair's arms.  Martha had been beside herself trying to save the woman, knowing that to many she was simply a rock.  Someone who had survived things that no one should have survived.  She had somehow escaped the Time Lock and escaped the grasp of Rassilon.  Out of everyone, surely she would have survived... but she didn't.  
  
Jack had the difficult duty of telling Ianto that Autumn had died.  
  
She still lay in state, under quarantine and in a stasis field preventing even the tiniest microbe from touching her or from escaping her, given what had killed her.  Martha still walked past the sealed room, visible on all sides like some sort of morbid snow globe, and shuddered at the sight of the Time Lord lying under a gauzy red and gold bordered white silk shroud that did nothing to obscure her features.  
  
It was creepy, but at the same time it was closure.  
  
Autumn looked as if she had closed her eyes for a short moment to rest, her hands folded gracefully over her chest, in full formal robes of rich reds and orange -- complete with the neck collar and jewelry -- for her station in her society.  Someone had cleaned, combed out and arranged her silvering dark hair into complex knots and curls, clipping into place with ornate hair clasps.  The unmistakable human connection was the Welsh bracelet and a ribbon she recognized as an award from UNIT, given only for moments of great valour.  
  
With a sigh, Martha continued past but saw Ianto staring into the room.  "Ianto, you startled me," said Martha.  
  
He looked at her and she could see the haunted look in his eyes.  "I never thought I would outlive her."  
  
"I don't think any of us did," answered Martha, putting a hand on his shoulder.  "Time Lords are not someone a human outlives."  
  
"I should have been there," said Ianto.  
  
"There's not much you could have done to save her, Ianto."  
  
"That doesn't matter... I should still have been there."  
  
Martha patted his shoulder and continued walking and was a bit surprised when Liz came running up.  "What is it?"  
  
"I made a breakthrough in the formula, but I need a second opinion before I test it on a live subject," said Liz.  "I thoroughly believe it will work but I cannot make this decision on my own."  
  
"Who did you have in mind?" asked Martha, already knowing.  
  
"The Doctor... she's the worst at the present moment and, quite frankly, the only one we have so close.  The others are either in Antarctica or just too far."  Liz caught her breath, and waved off Martha who stepped forward to help her.  "I'm not as young as I used to be."  She stood back up again.  "I am certain it works, but the Doctor is so weak that I'm not entirely certain that it wouldn't kill her."  
  
"She's dead if we don't try anything," pointed out Martha, bluntly, looking back at Ianto who seemed to be paying attention as he walked over.  "I take it you heard?"  
  
"I did... I think you should try it," he said.  "I'm no doctor or scientist but it is her only hope.  Don't let another member of that family die without trying something, anything... and I know losing her would kill Jack inside the same way he died inside when I 'died' to the 456."  
  
Martha nodded her agreement.  "I say we do it.  We have nothing to lose."  
  
Liz chewed her lip but then said, "So long as we're in consensus."  
  


* * * * * *

  
Donna looked up as Martha emptied the contents of a syringe into the Doctor's IV push.  "What is that?" she asked.  
  
"Something that will hopefully stop this in its tracks, or at least help her fight through this," answered Martha.  
  


* * * * * *

  
No cure was a quick cure, and this one was no exception, but ever so slowly the Doctor seemed to pull out of the out of control downhill decline.  Overnight, she stopped growing worse.  Her condition didn't improve, but it didn't continue to ravage her systems.  It was as if the virus hit a brick wall and couldn't continue its course.  
  
Where it had already been didn't improve.  
  
But that was enough to encourage Martha and Liz, who promptly sent vials via TARDIS to Antarctica.  
  


* * * * * *

  
The Master was barely aware of the voices around him.  It just felt as if he was burning like a stick in the fire as well as his head felt like someone was drilling a pick through both sides of his head through the temples.  
  
Sometimes he thought he was still at the mercy of Rassilon and fought desperately against him, but it always seemed like the insane Time Lord, the progenitor of them all, had a stronger grip on him even if the voice, nor the words, were correct.  Soft words of encouragement and comfort came confusingly from Rassilon's lips, and sometimes medical terminology.  
  
More confusing was the fact that it was in 21st century human English.  
  
Other times he knew where and when he was, but his limbs felt strange and things were disconnected and far away.  It was during these times he knew how ill he was and was embarrassed that he could not lift a finger to do the simplest thing to take care of himself and that these human nurses had to for him.  
  
Still other times he just slept the heavy sleep of someone near death, and these long sleeps were getting longer and more difficult to climb out of.  
  
It was one of the few lucid times that he took stock of his own condition.  
  
He was so thin and weak that he was bony.  He could see how pale, almost grey, he was.  It was at this point that he prepared for death in a way he never had before... he was certain that if he died this time that it was final.  
  
But perhaps it was time... he had no regrets this time.  No great designs that he was leaving undone.  The drums were gone and for the first time in a long time things were clear.  His generation was almost done anyway... and those from before were long gone.  
  
While his time with the drums had seen him do a great many things that were outright despicable, he knew, in this moment of clarity, that it had never really been him.  Rassilon had played his strings like marionette.  A toy.  
  
He was a toy no longer -- he was free...  
  
... When he fell asleep, the dark welcoming and comforting.  Almost warm.  
  
And then it was impossibly bright.  
  


* * * * * *

  
Jack ran into the lab, the precious cargo of vials in his grasp.  It wasn't that he wanted to save the Master, but if he did then he would perhaps finally get some straight answers.  The nurse that had been caring for the Master looked up, outside the room.  
  
She shook her head in answer to his unspoken question.  
  
The Master was dead.  
  


* * * * * *

  
_Three months later_  
  
The Doctor was standing in a park, one that overlooked a small city that was no where near San Francisco.  The climate here reminded her more of Gallifrey, especially considering that she stood in a grove of silver maples in the middle of autumn when the leaves turned from green to brilliant shades of red and orange and the grass in the distance, while not red, was a vibrant shade of orange gold.  
  
The TARDIS sat behind her by a matter of a few yards.  The rental car with Grace leaning on the side of it.  
  
A small group of people were gathered in this small park.  Sir Alistair.  Jack and Ianto.  Donna... Jenny... Drax, and of course Elizabeth Shaw.  
  
It was those conspicuously absent and now always would be.  
  
"The virus killed 60% of your Gallifreyan brethren," said Grace sadly.  "There were so few of you before and now there is even less."  
  
"We'll bounce back," said the Doctor sadly.  "We always do."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Doctor," said Liz.  "If we'd found the answer quicker..."  
  
"It's not your fault," answered the Doctor, turning to face them.  "You saved so many more, including me."  
  
"But we lost others," said Drax.  
  
The silence stretched.  
  
"But so many others still survive," said the Doctor.  "And that's something."


	11. Chapter Ten: After Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor finds herself drastically sidetracked by unknown forces when an investigating why Canton seems to be living in two separate time lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a gaff on the name of Canton's lover as I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be Jet. Then again I could be wrong. Don't flambaste me too badly on it.

The years had not been kind to Canton.  
  
Not since 1969 and the fracas with the Silence, the Doctor and everything with the president.  They had been fraught with their own challenges and their own rewards, but all in all, they had been far more difficult than he or his other half had hoped.  The world was different since the moon landing but just not enough for the two gay men.  Perhaps later it would be but for now love between two consenting adults... straight, bi or gay but particularly gay... was not easy.  
  
Canton and Tyrone had moved from the small southern town where Canton had been assigned by the FBI to a much larger, and thankfully much more open minded, city up the coast from Miami.  It was not nearly as large as Miami and was out of the way and out of the spotlight.  
  
Tyrone had passed away not two months before and Canton found himself in yet another melancholy mood where all he wanted to do was look over photo albums and drink.  
  
There was still so many years between now and when he would be needed again but he wished it were now.  
  
He needed it to be now.  
  
He flipped another page, this one with a shaven Doctor, his hair still long, standing not far from Rory who looked the very part of a 1960's accountant in his suit and glasses.  
  
Canton looked up at the sky from the deck chair.  
  
"Forgive me, old friend... but I need your help more than ever."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Are you sure about this, Donna?" asked the Doctor as she checked over another reading on another part of the TARDIS console.  "You don't have to, you know."  
  
Donna leaned back on the rail that surrounded the console, looking up into the darkened expanse above the control room.  "I know," she sighed, and then looked at the Doctor.  "But... and I never thought I would say this... I have a life in Toronto, you know.  A good life, one I can live with.  One where I wasn't dependent on another to define what made me.  Just my own skills, my own talents.  I wonder what I can do on my own now that I have access to everything that I am entitled to have.  What I can do, where I will end up... it's not that I'm ungrateful for the time on the TARDIS... but..."  
  
The Doctor nodded her understanding.  "No more living in anyone's shadow.  You want to be your own person and stand on your own two feet."  
  
"Yeah," answered Donna.  "You're not upset are you?"  
  
"No!" answered the Doctor, with a bit of a laugh.  "Why would I be upset about that?"  
  
"Well, I know how lonely you can be.  Even if you are not your grandfather, you are still enough like him that you crave the company.  Crave the people around you.  And I know you will miss having me around if it's just you and Jenny."  
  
Jenny shifted her weight from one foot to another.  "Actually, much as I realize the timing is bad... but I have been thinking about moving on as well.  For much the same reason as you, Donna."  Jenny then turned to the Doctor.  "I kinda feel bad about this now, though, since if we both leave you'll be alone."  
  
The expression on the Doctor's face was a bit unreadable, but she nodded her understanding with a hand held up to forestall their further explanations.  "You forget that once I left my grandfather.  Not to stand on my own two feet per se, but to be married and start living as an adult instead of constantly under his shadow.  If I understand anything, it is definitely that.  You can both grow so much under the shadow of the Oncoming Storm.  Eventually you have to find your own way."  She smiled sadly.  "I won't pretend that it doesn't hurt to lose the both of you, but... having you move on this way is far better than the alternative.  Especially... especially considering the first time my grandfather lost both of you."  
  
"Technically, with me anyway, you're talking about the second time, Space girl," said Donna mildly.  "Racnoss was the first.  DoctorDonna was the second."  
  
"Right, well, you know what I mean," said the Doctor wryly.  "So, when do you want to be dropped off?"  
  
"A few days, at most, after the fracas at my work when you first picked me up with Jack," answered Donna.  "Technically, I never disappeared according to company records.  That tells me I return precisely after that.  I look a bit different but not so much that they won't recognize me and not enough to render my identification useless."  
  
After a moment of thought the Doctor said, "A far better exit last time than the last."  
  
Donna nodded in agreement.  "Perhaps as a Time Lord on Earth before the rest arrive I can help work towards their future integration.  Who knows?  Maybe it was me who made what could be smoothed out that way?"  
  
The Doctor looked over at Jenny.  "And you?"  
  
"After the Time Lords settled... after... everything that's happened there with us.  I don't want to cause a paradox."  Jenny hugged herself and then threw her arms open wide as if to encompass the entirety of the TARDIS.  "I want to learn about our culture and maybe... maybe become a Time Lord instead of just a Gallifreyan with some unofficial Time Lord training.  I think maybe Dad would be proud of that... to see the line continued again."  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
ACT ONE  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
The TARDIS landed with a gentle bump in the middle of the new Citadel in Antarctica.  After a few moments the doors opened and both Jenny and the Doctor stepped out.  The Doctor raised an eyebrow at the sight of Donna Noble who, not five minutes before, had been dropped off in Toronto back in their relative past.  "This is a... surprise," pointed out the Doctor.  
  
"Hello Arkytior," answered Donna serenely.  
  
The Doctor looked Donna up and down, noting the changes.  Donna didn't look any older than when she had been dropped off back in 2010.  Considering it was now 2022 and twelve years later the Doctor had a feeling that something had changed.  
  
As if the Academy robes she now wore were not a dead giveaway.  "Donna?" asked the Doctor uncertainly.  
  
"Much has changed since we last left each other, Doctor," answered Donna.  "I, for one, decided that since I was now a Time Lord myself then perhaps it was time to find out what that truly meant.  In answer to your next question, it is not 2022 as you believe.  The TARDIS has brought you too far forward.  But, for the purposes you brought Jenny that is perfectly fine."  
  
"Okay, I'll bite.  When is it?" asked Jenny.  
  
The Doctor turned inward and followed the time line, then smiled when she opened her eyes.  "We are in the human year of 2087," she said.  "And, judging by the looks of things, you are currently in the latter stages of your Academy training yourself.  Do you still call yourself Donna?"  
  
"Only a few know me by that name, and growing far fewer by the day," answered Donna.  "I prefer the name Heryn, which in Gallifreyan..."  
  
"... Means the same thing," finished the Doctor.  "Right.  What I am confused on is how you entered the Academy.  Blood or no, you needed a reference."  
  
"And I had one, as you will surely give Jenny yours."  
  
"We both know if I do that it means that the reference you used couldn't have been me because I can only put forward one student at any one time and cannot do it again until either that first student graduates or drops out."  The Doctor mused about this for a second.  "So, who was your reference?"  
  
"Ah, so you will give Jenny your reference.  Good."  
  
Donna... no... Heryn... turned and led the two of them into an office where she motioned for them to sit.  "I'm afraid that it will likely be some time before we see each other again.  You'll meet my reference soon and in my time line now you already have.  But... in yours we both know that if I tell you too soon that things will not fall as they should.  Farewell, Doctor."  
  
With that Heryn left again.  Jenny looked troubled as she watched the Time Lord once known as the human Donna Noble leave.  "Will that happen to me?" asked Jenny.  
  
A small nod was her answer.  "Yes." The Doctor looked Jenny straight in the eyes as if to read the honesty of her next answer.  "Is this still want you want, even seeing the changes in Donna?"  
  
Jenny thought for a long moment, worrying her bottom lip with her top teeth as she thought about it.  She then faced the Doctor.  "It is."  
  
"Then I give my reference for entry into the Time Lord Academy," stated the Doctor in front of the computer.  
  
"Reference acknowledged.  Please state your name, House and Chapter affiliation," came the computerized response.  
  
"Arkytioralarnalifanyare e'Fanyarenosse e'Prydon," answered the Doctor.  "Otherwise known as the Doctor in honour of my grandfather who first carried the name."  
  
"Identification accepted."  The computer took another moment.  "Please state the name of the student you wish to act as reference."  
  
 _This is the part where you pick your own name, or I choose for you.  Ordinarily your parents would have picked... but Grandfather is dead._.. the Doctor told Jenny telepathically.  
  
 _Then you pick,_ answered Jenny.  
  
 _By all rights you are my Aunt, Jenny_ , came the Doctor's mild chuckle.  _All right, fine._  
  
The Doctor had to think for a long moment.  It had been such a long time since she named her own son and even then they had used the English human method of naming.  Here she was called upon to use the Gallifreyan method of naming.  A personal descriptor of how the parents saw their child, then a part to indicate lineage... and then House.  All this precision was to make sure that even if the child eventually left their own House that their origination was always fully acknowledged.  Jenny's lineage held no mother gene, only that of her father.  That part was easy, as was House.  
  
But how to describe Jenny to the ages and to the rest?  How would she be immortally known to the Matrix and all that it held?  
  
That part was not so easy.  
  
Like her chosen name, she was an anomaly.  
  
And there lay the answer.  
  
 _Eschuinerilafanyare e'Fanyarenosse e'Prydon_ , answered the Doctor mentally.  _Awakening of your father of House Lungbarrow of the Prydonian Chapter.  You will be known as Awakening, or in our language Eschuine._  
  
Jenny opened her mouth and the delicate and precise nature of Gallifreyan rolled off her tongue.  "Eschuinerilafanyare e'Fanyarenosse e'Prydon."  
  
The Doctor nodded, and she wiped away a tear.  It was a proud moment to see Jenny enter the Academy, but also bittersweet and sad.  She was once again alone.  
  
But what a way to "lose" two companions!  It was far better this way than how either of them had been lost the last time.  She hugged Jenny one last time.  "Will we see each other again?" asked Jenny tearfully.  
  
"Oh yes, but you have sixty Gallifreyan years to go before you exit the Prydonian Academy and are entered into the Time Lord Academy.  Until then you are restricted in movement to the Academy and its supervised excursions... and in the scant short weeks you have for family time during what would be summer you would only be allowed to spend it with a chaperone to prevent inadvertent trips in a TARDIS.  Maybe they might see the time we spent as advanced credit, but I doubt it."  The Doctor looked at her as she held her shoulders.  "We may only see each once or twice a decade.  I will not be part of your excursions in the Academy but if your down time is timed just so we may cross paths."  
  
"And then after?"  
  
"You'll be an Apprentice Time Lord then... and assigned to a senior Time Lord.  You will still not likely run into me until their TARDIS and mine see some reason for you to."  The Doctor stepped backwards.  "Remember always that your father, and your niece, are so proud of you.  And remember that you are his daughter."  
  
The door slid shut, cutting off the Doctor's view of Jenny.  
  
"Good bye, Jenny," murmured the Doctor from the other side.  "It's better this way."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor wasn't sure when or where the TARDIS chose to take her.  She simply chose a random destination and threw the lever that would take her into the vortex.  A short time after she stepped out of the TARDIS and drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she did so.  
  
She had almost been about to ask Jenny to sense when they were as practice, and then Donna on where.  But they were both gone now and even in her personal time line long since lost.  
  
Even when a more positive exit was taken it still hurt like knives to both hearts.  
  
The Doctor patted the side of the TARDIS and said, "I bet it doesn't hurt any less when a pilot leaves, either, eh?"  
  
There was, of course, no answer.  With another sigh, the Doctor began walking in a random direction and soon found herself on a relatively busy street.  Judging by which side the cars drove on and the relative sense of general wealth it was somewhere in North America.  By the warmth and dry air somewhere in the Midwest. The Doctor took a moment and let her senses venture out, listening to the speech around her, the conversations, the general sound of engines and other white noise that most people wouldn't pay attention to.  It wasn't as if she could pick out individual details, but her Time Sense used it to add all this input up and then give her the answer in a matter of nanoseconds of where, when, general era as well as general mood of the area.  
  
Dallas, Texas -- strange that she would find herself here again in so short a time -- and in the mid 1980's.  It was a normal day and from what her senses could tell her there was no paradoxes or other issues of time anywhere in the area.  She could see on this street alone one or two other aliens of species that could mix in with the help of a perception filter, but she could tell they were no threat.  Sightseeing on the sly.  
  
Like her.  
  
She walked down the street for a bit until the smell of coffee and other appetizing sweet bits attracted her nose and her stomach protested.  Well, not her stomach exactly but more like the infamous Gallifreyan sweet tooth to which every single last Gallifreyan usually fell prey.  Her grandfather had certainly been no exception to this, and neither was she.  
  
Gallifreyan food, on average, was a bit sweeter if not as showy or... to human taste... as bland.  It was actually rather a bit much for human tastes.  A bit spicier, a bit denser.  Not hot per se... but certainly not shy on spices and flavour.  It was rather funny considering that typically the Time Lords and Gallifreyans were a rather boring bunch but their food and clothing was not.  
  
The Doctor found herself in the cafe and then standing at the counter ordering.  She sat down at the diner style bar as she waited and when her coffee arrived the waitress seemed to almost sense the despondence and loneliness wafting from her in waves.  "What's the matter, honey?" asked the older woman as she poured the coffee from a glass carafe into plain white mug.  "I can see the blues just coming off of you."  
  
"Was travelling with a few friends who decided they'd rather go back home.  Now it's just me," answered the Doctor.  
  
"I'm hearing a bit of an accent there," said the waitress.  "Home not exactly from around here, is it?"  
  
"Nope," answered the Doctor.  "Not even close."  
  
The waitress left her then, letting the Doctor fix her coffee the way she liked it as well as the opportunity to go over the menu.  She was in no hurry to leave.  It wasn't as if she had anywhere she needed to be.  Moments later, the waitress came back and the Doctor opted for something gooey and full of chocolate and a scoop of ice cream.  With a nod, the waitress left and when the man next to her abandoned his newspaper, the Doctor grabbed it and began to read.  
  
She hardly paid attention to those who came in and out of the diner.  
  
However, someone paid attention to her.  
  
The man was a short man with short dark hair that was turning grey at the temples.  He was smartly dressed but yet also mixed in with the rest of those in suits.  He lifted his eyebrows as he saw her and sat in one of the table booths, ordering a coffee from an angle where he could watch her without seeming to.  Moments later a tall, black man dressed almost the same as the other man came in and saw his partner's gaze on the Doctor.  He slid in opposite to the first and with a glance the two communicated the basics of recognizing that she didn't quite mix in.  
  
It wasn't as if she was foreign that didn't mix in.  That didn't faze the two Dallas natives, nor anyone else.  Dallas was a large metropolitan city that saw its fair share of strangers from other places that one more was not that big a deal nor all that strange.  
  
The two experienced federal agents, both veteran FBI agents, could see that there was something else that didn't fit with the Doctor.  
  
Canton Delaware III, once again a full member of the FBI, couldn't put his finger on what drew his eye to the woman but his partner, who was formerly Secret Service and once one of the President's personal guard.  Both were trained to pick up on the unusual as usually that meant an immediate threat.  Neither of them were feeling as she were a threat, but she was a person of interest.  
  
Canton could also see that she was clearly distracted.  She had no idea that either of them were watching them and if she did she didn't seem to care.  Finally, Canton got up, picked up his coffee cup and sat down beside her and clattered his cup as he did so.  His partner did the same on the other side of her.  
  
This brought the Doctor's attention out of the distraction and musings she had been in and she cursed herself for not noticing that she had attracted attention.  She looked first from the most recent disturbance -- who was a rather handsome black man in a well fit, if plain and run of the mill suit -- to the other man and she blinked in surprise as she recognized Canton.  
  
Canton caught the surprised recognition and he lifted a brow.  "Have we met?"  
  
"Yes, a long time ago.  Funny how time flies."  
  
"Huh, because I'm good with faces and I don't know you at all."  
  
"I wasn't wearing this face either," murmured the Doctor, but she could tell Canton had heard her.  
  
"Are you all right in the head, lady?" asked Canton, leaning away a bit as if to look her up and down.  
  
"Well, not me per se, but someone else we both knew.  Someone whose memories I hold close."  She leaned close.  "The Doctor."  
  
Canton sat up straight as his eyes widened and his partner and him shared a look behind her back in plain surprise.  It was his partner's response that suddenly made the Doctor's hope of peace and quiet go up in a cloud when he said, "How does he just know to show up when you need him?"  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
ACT TWO  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor followed Canton and his life partner back to their home and once through the door, the other man offered her more coffee.  "No, I think I've had enough," she answered.  "So, what's up Canton.  You seem as if you wanted to find me."  
  
"You?" asked Canton as he shrugged off his coat and put it away.  "No, but who you know, yes.  So, where is he?"  
  
The Doctor looked down and then back up.  "I am the Doctor, Canton.  That's how I recognized you."  
  
Canton froze again as he looked her up and down.  Finally he broke out into a laugh.  "That's a good one.  Seriously... you are serious.  Well... don't take this the wrong way..."  
  
"1969.  Investigating a little girl who somehow was calling President Nixon.  Found her in Florida, or at least found the suit in Florida with Amy, Rory and River.  How am I doing?"  
  
Canton stepped back.  "That proves that one of the other three told you."  
  
"In Area 51 you chained me up while we built a special cage to trap something within, and part of the trap had my TARDIS which typically looks like a 1960's Police Call Box from Britain," the Doctor continued.  "We maintained the cover that you had captured an alien... me... and that you were interrogating me for the location of the other three."  
  
Canton stared at her, but she could clearly see the disbelief was giving way to a slightly less doubtful look on his face.  "That proves nothing."  
  
"The TARDIS is bigger on the inside.  I remember the look of wonder on your face the first time you took a trip on her.  It was just the two of us.  Unlike anyone else you never ran back outside to ran all around the ship to confirm the fact that it was bigger on the inside you simply coolly accepted it and moved on," she finished.  "No one else was around for that and you know as well as I do that the real Doctor would never divulge that even under duress which means that.."  
  
"... You're the Doctor," finished Canton as the doubt finally fell away.  "But how?  You're a woman now!"  
  
"Time Lords have this trick when we're about to die or so injured that death is around the corner.  We change... regenerate... and when that happens every injury is healed, poisons and diseases purged.  Every cell literally... well, regenerates itself into a state of a fresh restart.  Unfortunately that also means we typically change appearance as the genetic deck is reshuffled within a certain set perimeter for the same reason children and cousins will take on the characteristics of their parents," she answered.  "The same general appearance will take precedence... and I'm losing you.  Okay, Canton... sit, breathe..."  
  
Canton did so as he stared at her and when he caught his breath he looked at her up and down.  "And I take it in one of these regenerations you came out looking like a sister instead of a brother.  Okay, I can accept that."  
  
"To be technical, more like granddaughter... only in very rare circumstances will gender change.  But yes, basically," answered the Doctor.  "You still with me?"  
  
"Yeah," he answered, bouncing back immediately.  
  
"You never freaked over the TARDIS but you did over regeneration."  The Doctor grinned.  "What will Amy say?"  
  
"Don't you tell her," snapped back Canton in horror.  
  
The Doctor grew serious as Canton's life partner walked into the room.  "What made you need my help so much that you were looking for me?"  
  
The two of them shared a glance and then Canton started talking.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
It started in 1969.  
  
The downhill spiral.  
  
It seemed like ever since Canton had met the Doctor that certain aspects of his life that had been in his control seemed to take a difference route.  Canton didn't believe in fate but if he did he was sure it would be like this.  At first it was little things that didn't seem right.  It was as if his memory of events and what was happening around him didn't match, and then they would change and suddenly everything would.  
  
He thought perhaps it was stress and so retired.  
  
But that began to change.  
  
He woke up one morning and his partner wasn't there.  He was just gone.  Canton had thought that perhaps he had gotten up earlier and gone to work, but when he opened the closet and saw only his clothes, his things... he had blinked in sudden confusion and heartbreak.  
  
He had swiftly called a friend.  "Have you seen Tom?" he asked.  
  
The silence on the other end had been telling.  "Canton... sweetheart... are you feeling all right?" asked Karla.  
  
"Yeah, fine, other than Tom up and vanished on me in the middle of the night."  
  
After another long silence Canton had felt a sinking sensation.  "But you know Tom is dead... he's been dead for years..."  
  
He wasn't a fainting sort of man, but hearing that made him drop not only the phone but also sit down with a suddenness on the floor that he could hear Karla's panicked calls from the phone receiver until he picked it back up again.  "I'm here," came his choked voice.  
  
"Oh my God, Canton, I've heard about waking up and forgetting those little details before waking, but that was a rather big one.  Are you sure you're all right?" she asked frantically.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he rubbed his eyes.  "It's just..."  
  
Then there was a gut wrenching jolt to the side and Karla, as if the conversation had switched mid go, was suddenly talking again.  "And then Tom said... are you listening at all?" she asked.  
  
"What was that about Tom?" he asked, puzzled.  
  
"Well, it's just that yesterday he said you weren't feeling that well.  He's been noticing that you've been off."  
  
"But you just said a few minutes ago that he was dead and had been for years!" exclaimed Canton in confusion.  
  
"What?!  Why would I say something like that?"  She was quiet again.  "You know, maybe he is right.  Stay home and rest, Canton, I think you need it.  Maybe I should bring over some soup..."  
  
"Thanks, Karla, that'd be great," said Canton as he hung up the phone.  
  
Sure enough, now that he was looking around the signs of Tom's life were scattered around the apartment.  "What the hell is wrong with me?" he wondered.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor sat on his couch, staring back at him.  He was even beginning to doubt his own memory about the Doctor being a man but something, some instinct, told him that at least that part of his memory was correct.  It was just all the recent stuff.  "Am I going crazy?" he finally asked.  "Is the memory of you being a man wrong too?"  
  
"No, Canton... to both... you're not crazy, nor going crazy and your memory of the male Doctor is also correct," answered the Doctor, and she answered the next question she could hear a mile away as he opened his mouth to ask it.  "The one you remember was my grandfather.  He died and left me to carry on his legacy."  
  
Canton's mouth snapped close with a visible and audible click of his jaw.  "Oh," was all he said.  "I... I'm sorry."  
  
"I am as well," she answered gently.  "I remember you being his friend."  
  
"How can you remember that if you're not him?" asked Canton.  "Some sort of genetic memory?"  
  
"Telepathic race, Canton.  In computer terms, he uploaded his memories to me and I can access them as if you would access the hard drive of your computer... what is it?"  
  
"Ah..." Canton looked at her in confusion.  "I don't have a computer... they'd take up too much room."  
  
"What year is this?" asked the Doctor.  "No, wait... it's in the 80's, I know that...  no one have one of those Lisa's yet?"  
  
"A what?" asked Tyrone.  
  
"It's an Apple computer... oh come on, I know Apple is around!"  
  
"Yeah, I've heard of that outfit.  Don't have one their machines, though."  Canton shrugged as he leaned back.  "Never saw the use."  
  
"No, you wouldn't," she answered.  "Anyway, I guess the next best thing is that I have his memories like a... uh... photo album.  Only better.  One with an audio journal... it's complicated."  
  
"You have his memories like you experienced what he did, basically?" asked Tyrone.  
  
"Yes, exactly!  Now I know why Canton likes you.  You're brilliant," answered the Doctor.  "Only not quite.  It's not as if I experienced his memories so they're like echoes with visual and audio, and some emotional input.  That's the best I can describe it as.  Now, back to the matter at hand.  This feels like your time line is being tampered with..."  
  
Canton clutched his head and the Doctor even felt a slight bit queasy.  In fact, she felt worse than that... she all but collapsed to the ground as it felt as if space and time folded in on her and spun at the same time.  It wasn't a fun ride.  
  
It was the distinct feeling of a paradox flipping and coming into stark reality.  The paradox effect on her Time Sense was as disorienting as having human vertigo, an ear infection and the stomach flu all at once.  
  
When it suddenly dissipated she was left with a sour taste in her mouth and the vague sense of illness deep in her guts.  Canton looked like he was normal again, but then again, he was human.  He helped her stand up, looking around his apartment.  "Oh no, it happened again," he said.  
  
The Doctor looked around at the apartment.  "Wait a minute, weren't we in Dallas before?  This looks someplace... coastal."  
  
"It's up the coast from Miami," answered Canton bleakly.  "What is going on?"  
  
"It's a Paradox."  The Doctor looked around.  "Where's Tyrone?"  
  
"My God, you do remember him?" asked Canton.  "It's this reality where he's dead and everyone thinks I'm crazy for remembering him as being alive.  But you... you remember the other reality..."  
  
"Time Lord."  
  
"Right."  Canton took a breath.  "So, I'm not crazy."  
  
"Not crazy.  Now what's causing the Paradox?"  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
ACT THREE  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
The fact was that the Doctor was not feeling at her best.  The effect of time being warped and twisted was extremely disorienting to even the best trained, and talented, Time Lord.  The Doctor had been well trained and was considered extremely talented -- a genius by even her own people's standards -- but it was enough to make her feel extremely ill and tired, with a constant ache behind her eyes.  
  
Canton fared better, but why he could remember the original time line as the truth where no one else around him could was a puzzle.  
  
But the far more important puzzle was who, or what, was causing the paradox.  
  
Then, as quickly as the effect had come, it was gone and time corrected itself.  Tyrone looked at them both and put down the tea quickly, first running to the obviously in distress Doctor and then to Canton to check on him.  Then they were both helping the Doctor to lay down on the couch, with Canton putting a cool cloth on her forehead.  "Are you all right?" asked Canton.  
  
"I will be."  
  
Canton watched the Doctor pass out on his couch, and he covered her in a blanket.  "She's quite ill.  Why is she ill and not you?" asked Tyrone.  
  
"She's not human.  Her people are sensitive to time and it's natural flow.  Having the proverbial rug pulled out from under her was... not a fun experience... but she's confirmed that I'm not going crazy at all.  It's real and it's happening," said Canton.  
  
Tyrone looked a bit sick himself, but it was only at the mention of the world where he was dead and Canton was alone.  "Does she have any idea what is going on?"  
  
"None yet, but..." Canton thought a moment.  "Well, she does and she doesn't.  She knows what and how it is -- like a traffic cop would an accident scene -- but she doesn't know the who or the why."  
  
"...Or the where," finished Tyrone.  
  
"Yeah, that too," agreed Canton.  
  
"So, basically, we have a temporal murder scene with no motive and no suspect," said Tyrone, with a curt nod.  "I can work with that."  
  
Canton smiled for the first time in a very long time.  "Yeah, so can I."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor felt as if she had closed her eyes for a short moment and then opened them to realize that hours had literally passed.  She sat up as she stared at the bulletin board and wall full of taped and pinned pages of notes, photographs and hand drawn diagrams.  At first she was confused and then she realized that the two FBI agents were treating this as an old fashioned case.  
  
She supposed that to them it would be that simple and this was a way for them to make it simpler.  
  
Canton walked in, noticed she was awake and knelt down in front of the couch.  "You feeling better?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah... and evidently so are you and Tyrone.  What's all this?" she asked, motioning to their wall.  
  
"Tyrone's idea.  Make it an investigation, even if off the books, to solve the case.  We figured we'd get a head start and then when you woke up you could take a look and see if you could make heads or tails of what we've found," answered Canton.  
  
"That is absolutely brilliant," said the Doctor.  "That had to be the best idea I have seen."  
  
She stood up and looked at the papers.  There was no surprise at the thoroughness of their work considering the level of their training as professional investigators at a US Federal level.  It did take quite a bit of the footwork off of her to look over their notes.  
  
According to this, Canton had started having these "fits" two months ago.  That meant she had to retreat and go back for two months and find what was causing these.  Canton watched her and saw the frown on her face.  "I know that look," he said.  "What's up?"  
  
"I have to leave for a bit and use the TARDIS to go back two or so months.  Whatever caused this started then," she answered as she turned to leave.  
  
Canton was right on her heels.  "If you think I'm letting you go alone, you've got another thing coming."  
  
She laid a hand on his chest.  "The problem is that you can't come with me.  It's possibly centred on you.  If you disappear out of those two time-lines you risk collapsing both of them.  You must stay here as the anchor."  
  
He nodded and then said, "Only if you promise to come back."  
  
"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, Canton," she answered as she strode onto the TARDIS.  
  
Canton watched it dematerialize as the world shifted again.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
From within the TARDIS the Doctor saw the Timeline shift, but thankfully the TARDIS shielded her from the worst of it.  It was still a very unpleasant experience, but not nearly as bad as it had been.  "All right, old girl, find the divergence and let's fix it."  
  
A few moments later she stepped out into an earlier version of Miami where she watched, with much horror as Tyrone was involved in a drug related sting... and was gunned down.  She suddenly understood where, and when it happened.  
  
"Oh Canton," she breathed.  "I'm so, so sorry."  
  
Canton would be devastated.  
  
But the true time line was the Florida one where Tyrone was dead.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
When the TARDIS rematerialized, it was to the Florida apartment.  Canton watched the doors open and when the Doctor walked out with a grave expression on her face he knew what she had to say.  "This is the real time line, isn't it?" he stated flatly.  
  
"Canton, I'm so sorry."  She took a breath.  "Someone changed the time line, and if it was a flexible point, if it were meant to change, you wouldn't have the divergence."  
  
"And then what?"  
  
"And then I'd correct this in your favour," she answered with a wan smile.  "I wouldn't make you go through this.  But, I can't... I can't bring him back and we have to fix the divergence."  
  
"Did you find out when it happened?"  
  
"I did," she answered.  "He was assigned to investigate a drug case, or something to do with gangs.  He was killed in a shootout when the deal went sideways, I'm guessing.  From what I saw."  
  
"You... you were there."  
  
"Had to find out what caused it."  She looked at the wall.  "You maintained two sets of case files."  
  
Canton turned to the wall where the duplicate set of case files were laid out on the wall.  "Figured that if you appeared with me in Florida then we'd need it here too."  
  
The Doctor looked everything over as it was good for refreshing her memory.  Nothing had been changed at all in regards to notes.  With a nod she walked back to the TARDIS.  Canton followed her to the door and then stopped there.  
  
Another short hop found her back in the same time as the shooting but at the hospital where Tyrone had been finally taken in Miami.  The one where he was supposed to die on the table.  She had just walked around the corner when two well dressed, and tall, men blocked her path.  "Excuse me," she said as she made to move past them.  
  
"When the Commander was right when she said you would be here," said one of them.  
  
"Really?" asked the Doctor, as she nonchalantly leaned on the wall, crossing her arms and relaxing one leg behind the other.  "Who is this 'Commander', then?  I do think we should meet."  
  
"She agrees, which is why we were sent," answered the other.  "It is an honour, my lady."  
  
"Is it?"  The Doctor quirked an eyebrow.  "I feel as if you have me at a bit of a disadvantage... with you knowing who I am and not vice versa.  Who are you, anyway?"  
  
"The Family," answered the first one.  "And we've been waiting a long time for this."  
  
He motioned to the black car with tinted windows so dark that it was impossible to see within.  The Doctor looked from the Cadillac short limo and back to them.  "Seriously?  That is only the worst cliche in the book.  Family, mob boss car, big men in suits who are polite, but the point is still the same.  I go with you or I'm dead because you need me for something."  She stood back up from the wall.  "So, what if I say I must politely decline the invitation?"  
  
"You're the one who wanted to meet the Commander," the second one answered, exasperation tinting his tone.  "She simply didn't want you to have to look.  We can leave you here, as we found you... no threat and no other implied meaning... and let you look for her yourself or we save you the trouble and you go see her with all the hospitality and respect is due an equal."  
  
This intrigued, and worried, the Doctor.  
  
An equal -- and the offer of hospitality and respect.  She could go with them right now and not be a prisoner to meet this mysterious Commander.  When the meeting was done she would escorted back here, or anywhere else she desired, with the same polite courtesy.  "Good point, gentlemen.  Very well, I accept your offer of escort."  
  
A small bow from the both of them was her response, and the formal words she had been raised with -- even if in English instead of Gallifreyan -- was the proper response.  "The Family thanks you for the gift of your presence to our House."  
  
Humans doing the bidding of Time Lords.  She should have expected this.  It was getting tiring constantly having to serve as mediator between the two, and to deal with the same issues that had led to her grandfather to take them away from Gallifrey in the first place.  Now she was mired in the same inter-house intrigue as if she had never left.  
  
She let the two men lead her to the car, open the door for her as she sat in the car, and then close the door behind her.  
  
In the back of the seat in front of her was a small flat screen TV with a screen saver of a triangle.  
  
That was strange.  
  
There was no House in all of Gallifrey with that symbol.  She blinked in confusion and noticed that she was also being filmed via a small camera above the TV.  "A video call set up in the back of a limo.  Very chic, very high tech... for the era."  
  
"Thank you," answered a woman.  "I am sorry for this."  
  
"Also very mysterious, but yet reasonably polite.  You can see me, but I cannot see you.  A bit of an unfair disadvantage," said the Doctor as she leaned back into the fine, and comfortable, leather seats.  "Who are you?"  
  
"You may call me Veronica," answered the woman, now known as Veronica.  
  
"Veronica..." mused the Doctor.  "Not your real name, I presume.  Very human."  
  
"No less than the name Susan, also not your name, nor is the name you use now, Doctor."  
  
"Valid point," answered the Doctor.  "So let's dispense with them.  You clearly still know my Gallifreyan name, but I still do not know yours."  
  
"It is unimportant," answered Veronica.  
  
"I hardly think so," said the Doctor.  "Why would you?"  
  
"We have set aside our ties to Gallifrey.  Actually, we set them aside long before it fell."  There was a pause on the other side.  "I am truly sorry, Doctor, but we cannot allow you to interfere with our plans."  
  
"Are you intending to break hospitality?" asked the Doctor, her voice containing a steel edge beneath the silk.  
  
"Hardly.  Bend, certainly, but break?  No." Veronica was quiet again.  "And even if we were not bending the rules, we could not allow you to know where we are.  Far better for you not to know how to get where you are going, now..."  
  
The Doctor was mildly confused, and then it connected.  With a quick body twist, she tried the now locked doors.  There was no physical unlock, only electronic.  Her fingers were growing numb and she was feeling lightheaded.  Dammit... the air was drugged.  She hadn't even been aware of the gas within the sealed chamber.  Hell, she still couldn't smell it or taste it... no wonder her bypass hadn't triggered.  She made it trigger but she knew it only bought her time.  
  
With rapidly declining awareness, she desperately tried her sonic on the doors.  
  
She wasn't surprised to note that the doors were deadlocked.  She stared straight at the camera as she fought the feeling of drowning in air.  Bypass had bought her time, but she was running out of it as she had not prepared it enough for its full potential.  With a gasp, it kicked out and she whispered, "This won't work."  
  
"But it will," said Veronica evenly.  "Sleep well, Doctor."  
  
Just as the last bit of her awareness faded, she felt the car finally begin to move.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
ACT FOUR  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor woke slowly, but was aware of the extremely high thread count of the likely very expensive sheets she slept in as well as the almost silky texture of the linen sleep shirt and trousers.  She rolled over, losing herself deeper into the soft bed and clean bedding.  Not that her bed on the TARDIS was ever not clean, it just was more warm instead of light and refreshing.  This was all Caribbean breezes while the bedroom on the TARDIS was more a cross of cool Gallifreyan and English nights.  
  
The Doctor sat up straight in the bed, looking through the thin gauze of the mosquito netting as how she got here suddenly came rushing back.  "Definitely not where I passed out," she said as she looked around at the suite.  
  
It did not feel like a hotel to her, but more like someone's estate.  She stood up unsteadily as the aftereffects of the airborne sedative hung on stubbornly.  Someone had done their homework on what would effectively knock out a Time Lord without accidentally killing them.  She walked out onto the balcony and realized that it was not a private balcony but part of a garden that led to a very large multilevel pool that overlooked the ocean.  
  
The property, and house, had to be worth millions.  It was done in Colonial Spanish style, and gave her the impression that it had been here for generations, but had been invisibly, but thoroughly, modernized.  At first she thought that her escorts were gone and she looked around for an escape route.  
  
She was sorely disappointed to note that if there wasn't armed guards -- always with the guns! -- then there was a ten foot stone wall topped with razor wire surrounding the landlocked part of the property with a double fence gate and a manned guard post.  This place was a fortress and she suddenly realized that she wasn't in the US anymore, and therefore was now out of Canton's reach.  
  
The Doctor walked down to the pool where she could see other people relaxing by it.  When she came into sight of them, an elegant Asian woman stood up in greeting, as did another woman of indeterminate origin and too pale complexion.  The other three were well dressed Hispanic men, and probably one of them was the actual owner of the property.  "And our guest finally wakes," said one of them.  "Welcome to my villa."  
  
"Thank you for the invitation... I found it impossible to refuse," answered the Doctor without smiling.  
  
"Polite, but sharp, you did well to warn me of this one," said the man to the too pale woman.  
  
She took his measure.  He was approximately in his late thirties, possibly early forties.  He favoured cream coloured dress trousers and a pale blue dress shirt with his sleeves neatly rolled to mid forearm.  The matching cream coloured suit jacket was also neatly draped over the back of his chair.  "I am Giacomo."  
  
"That's an Italian name," said the Doctor.  
  
"That's because I am Italian," he answered, sounding amused, and the Doctor quickly corrected her assumptions even as a slightly worried thread went through her.  "I bought the place at quite the deal so my family and I had a place to relax.  The Commander here and I have a mutual understanding.  All joking aside, while you are here, you will be accorded all the respect of an honoured guest in my house.  Anything you want, or desire, will be yours provided it's in my power to give it.  There is, of course, a few rules."  
  
"Such as I can't leave until you decide I can," said the Doctor.  
  
"Unfortunate, but yes," answered Giacomo.  "The Commander here desires you remain for the next while until she finishes what she needs doing.  Evidently she is under the impression you will be in her way but does not desire your death.  Her family has a strange method of doing business, let me tell you.  Were it me... well... it's best we not go down that path in our conversation.  Rule number two is related to that.  You don't interfere with my family's business and give me a reason to bring the Commander and I's agreement to a quick and messy end.  We clear?"  
  
"Perfectly," answered the Doctor.  
  
"Good," he nodded.  "Now then.  You got up in time for lunch and we'd be honoured if you joined us."  
  
She sat down at the table in the last chair at the table.  "Now, let me make some introductions.  This is Yuki.  She's from Japan.  It's not someplace I've been before but she fascinates me with her tales of it."  
  
Yuki, the Asian woman nodded in a seated bow from the chair.  "I'm honoured, I'm sure."  
  
"These two gentlemen are Tony and Leo.  They'll be going back to the States shortly," finished Giacomo.  "And of course, this is the Commander who is also known as Veronica sometimes."  
  
"The voice on the other side of the screen," said the Doctor.  "We finally meet face to face."  
  
"Indeed we do," answered Veronica.  "My friends, this is the Doctor."  
  
Food was served by servants and they all tucked into the food.  The Doctor hadn't been sure if she could stomach eating with obviously vile company but she was starving.  
  
It wasn't as she, or her grandfather, judged others by the company they kept.  He had kept the company with criminals, as had she.  They had even been convicted criminals at one point.  Renegades were often mislabelled as criminals and lumped in the same pile as the worst of society.  
  
However, she had no doubt that these were the worst of society.  
  
Two, perhaps three, crime bosses sat at the table with her kidnapper and herself.  It wasn't exactly the best of company.  To their credit they didn't discuss 'business' at the table but talked about the most inane and neutral things. Baseball, sports, the weather... anything but serious topics.  Finally Yuki asked, "Veronica called you the Doctor.  Are you one of medicine?"  
  
"No, more of a scientist," answered the Doctor.  "A travelling scientist and a troubleshooter."  
  
"Now that's a more interesting subject that men who whack balls with wooden sticks," said Leo, ignoring the scandalized look from Tony.  "Shut up, you know how I think watching that stupid game is like watching paint dry."  
  
"It's not that interesting, really," the Doctor said, trying to divert the attention away from her so she could politely remove herself from the table.  
  
"Oh come on, at least tell us where you're from," said Leo.  "I'm guessing from the accent it's likely Upper State New York... and I was sure I knew every up and comer there."  
  
"She's from Canada... Ontario to be exact," answered Veronica.  "And she splits her time between there and London."  
  
"Ah, that explains it," said Leo.  "What kind of a scientist?"  
  
"Astrophysics."  The Doctor finished her meal and wiped her mouth.  "Thank you for the meal, but I think I've spent enough time in my sleep clothes."  
  
She retreated to her suite and closed the double door, sliding down the floor behind it.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Giacomo watched his guest retreat and knew what was eating at her.  She didn't approve of them or their business.  "Well, now that she has left, we can go back to business."  
  
"It doesn't bother you that she took off?" asked Leo, curiously.  
  
"You want to discuss our business with her around?  Much as I will silence those who need to be silenced, I find diving into unnecessary violence distasteful," answered Giacomo sharply.  "Far better for her to be kept out of it."  
  
Giacomo was not what he appeared, but for the purposes of this it was better if he was exactly as described on the tin.  His real name was Gianni Alamanni and he recognized Veronica's 'Doctor' as a friend of a friend who was now retired under some mysterious circumstances.  He was American but maintained the appearance of being from mainland Italy in more than just descent.  
  
And he was actually a part of the CIA.  Working a case, no less.  Had been for decades.  He lamented the fact that deep cover meant that his former ties had to be cut and his former life was, for all intents and purposes, dead and buried.  That had been necessary after Donny Brasco's success in the seventies, although he hadn't been CIA.  A more thorough and long term cover where he literally became the mob in order to facilitate better infiltration and foreign presence.  
  
A necessary evil... or so his superiors felt.  
  
This Doctor was familiar to him but he wasn't sure where or how and that rankled him.  
  
He wasn't lying, however, when he told the others that having her killed would be wasteful.  He found the entire idea rather distasteful when it was far easier to ensure silence in other ways.  Considering his background, a delicately worded statement privately would probably not only ensure her silence but perhaps also her aid if he ever needed it in the future.  
  
An instinct borne of years in the game told him that there was more to her than met the eye.  She was dangerous but potentially helpful.  
  
The key was finding out how she was and what her connection to Veronica was.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The next day the Doctor dress in a light, but ankle length, sundress and donned a wide brimmed close woven hat.  She checked to make sure she would be alone by the pool and sat at the table.  Four of the five unbearables had left and the servants had been clear on the fact that only Giacomo remained.  Moments later the crime boss owner had joined her for coffee and a light breakfast.  
  
"I see we're both early risers," he said.  
  
"I'm sorry I intruded on your breakfast, I will find my own way to my room," the Doctor said as she stood up to leave, but she was stopped by his strong grip on her wrist.  
  
"I think you and I have more to talk about than you think, Doctor.  I had someone run some background information on you.  Some old friends think you're an enemy.  Others think you're the greatest ally I could have."  He let her go and motioned for her to sit, which she did.  "I'm not what you think I am."  
  
"Depends on what you think I think you are," she retorted.  "Why don't we be clear?  I don't like you or what you stand for.  I'm only here, and still alive, because Veronica demanded it.  Otherwise you'd find me a threat and I'd be shark bait."  
  
"No, in that you're wrong."  He leaned back in his chair.  "My name is not Giacomo, it's Gianni.  And I'm CIA... not the mob.  Which, depending on your outlook, can be the same thing.  And yes, the mob knows.  They find me useful."  
  
That was a lie, but it seemed to not only surprise her but did much to calm her ruffled feathers.  "I'm getting the feeling you'd like me to maintain your cover but you're telling me this to reassure me that you have no intention of killing me.  We both know, CIA or not, that won't protect me."  
  
"Ah, but your association with UNIT will.  I don't know what Veronica is involved in, or why she feels you're a threat to it, and for appearances sake I have to cooperate with her.  To a point," he answered.  "Your cooperation with US foreign interests will delineate where that point is."  
  
"I'm not at liberty to speak for UNIT," said the Doctor.  "And, depending on your mission and what you want me to do will control my level of cooperation.  I can play nice and keep your secret and maintain that part of your cover, and even be social to you so both our stays here are at least tolerable.  What I want is return to Miami."  
  
"I can't do that for you," he said.  "At least, not right now."  
  
With a sigh, the Doctor accepted that.  With the TARDIS she could at least shift backwards in time far enough to fix the issues.  "When do you think you'll be able to?"  
  
"That depends on Veronica."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Much to her frustration, she was stuck on the slow path for nearly twenty years.  She was sure that this was Veronica's plan as she disappeared shortly thereafter with a note to Giacomo;  
  
 _Giacomo,_  
  
 _The Doctor is of no further use to us.  Please have her escorted back to Miami...  Preferably alive and well._  
  
 _Veronica_  
  
Gianni had her flown back to Miami from the Bahamas.  The Doctor quickly located the TARDIS and went back to a time mere moments after she had been kidnapped.  Canton was waiting for her at the hospital, although she doubted he knew to be waiting for her.  "Mr. Delaware?" she asked as she came to him, and he shook her hand.  "My name is Doctor Foreman.  Has anyone spoken to you about Tyrone?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah... I know he's not going to survive the night."  
  
"I'm so, so very sorry," she said, the sadness reaching her eyes.  "I have to ask you, any signs of dizziness or nausea?"  
  
"Who, me?  Nah," he answered.  "Why?"  
  
"Forgive me for being so forward, but it can be signs of... shock.  And you have had quite a shock.  He would have been a fine life partner."  
  
Canton looked up at her in shock.  "How did you know?  Who are you?"  
  
She shook her head but hugged him and whispered, "I'm so sorry, there was nothing I could do."  
  
With that she left as quickly as she came to make a hasty exit to the TARDIS.  Her hand was on the door and the key in the lock when a hand suddenly impacted flat on the side of the door.  "You knew."  
  
She turned to face Canton and he nodded.  "So, you're a woman now."  
  
"Oh Canton..."  
  
"For what it's worth, thank you for being here, Doctor.  I know that you tried... whatever it was..."  
  
She nodded, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and slipped into the TARDIS.  Canton backed away and watched the TARDIS vanish.  
  
A paradox never happened.  
  
And the Cloister Bell began to ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Gallifreyan" naming conventions are a mixing of Sindarin & Quenya from Lord of the Rings and that seen from Classic Who and should not be taken as canon... for EITHER fandoms.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Master and Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor works together with the Master to track down the Commander to stop her from destroying time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I had racked my brains on how to include the Master after the events of Time Lord Influenza. And then it hit me... they're Time Lords... so of course they travel in time...
> 
> ... (duh)...

The Doctor gazed forlornly at the console as the Cloister Bell continued to ring.  She looked up to where the top part of the Time Rotor disappeared into the ether above and where the supports gracefully descended to the floor below.  With a deep breath in, and another out, she was suddenly holding on for dear life as it seemed like something sent the TARDIS skittering sideways.  
  
When the screeching stopped and the TARDIS finally stilled again, the Doctor picked herself up and let go of the side of the console.  
  
"What in the name of the Eye was that?" she wondered aloud as she ran to the doors and swung them open.  
  
What met her eyes was both alarming and uttering ridiculous.  It appeared that part of a semi truck grille had wrapped itself around in a sudden impact.  Actually, no... the Doctor walked outside and looked up at the smoking wreckage.  
  
That was exactly what happened.  
  
While the TARDIS had been off to the side of the road, it appeared that a semi truck had – at full speed – rammed into the side of the TARDIS and sent it sliding sideways until both had stopped with the TARDIS resting against the other curb on the other side of the intersection.  Thankfully, the TARDIS hadn't not really been damaged as the Doctor had the shields up and the TARDIS was technically a larger, and denser, object than the semi.  
  
The crumple zone of the grilled and front of the truck had warped around the TARDIS in the impact and all but totalled the eighteen wheeler, causing its load to jackknife.  The Doctor ran to the cab and checked on the driver.  Out cold, and now that she was checking, he had been for some time.  Likely had fallen asleep at the wheel or had been made to do so.  
  
Perhaps was another attempt on her life by House Paradox...  
  
... Or simply an unfortunate coincidence.  
  
She had no way of telling unless she checked his blood for drugs or other chemicals.  If they were alien, then it was a definite attempt on her life.  If it was not, well, that meant it was inconclusive.  Either way, the unfortunate man needed medical attention and given that she was a doctor of sorts with a reasonable amount of first aid and medical skill and there was no one else around... it fell to her to make sure his life was saved.  She climbed all the way into the cab and checked first to make sure that the truck wasn't going to explode, catch on fire or some other equally dramatic and ironic event.  
  
They were safe there.  The Doctor shut down the large engine and set the parking brake, quickly reading to make sure his load wasn't also hazardous.  
  
Moments later, another man was climbing into the passenger side.  "Get out," he ordered, and she looked up in surprise.  
  
The Master.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
ACT ONE  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
"How are you here?" she asked in shock.  
  
First, she was shocked that he was here.  He was supposed to be dead of the deadly Gallifreyan Influenza that had decimated the survivors of the fall of Gallifrey.  Secondly she was shocked that he was here to help her at all.  
  
"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you... but my TARDIS landed itself not far from here."  He shook his head as he helped her unbuckle the man from the driver's seat.  "We don't have time.  The load is explosive and... unfortunately... it seems to be in danger of exploding and taking us with it unless we both get the hell out of here.  We'll take your TARDIS... get the both of us out of the danger zone."  
  
By this time they had released the injured man from the belt and lowered him out of the cab.  With a quick look, she realized the Master wasn't being over dramatic, or lying, about the nature of the danger.  They quickly carried the human into the Doctor's TARDIS and the doors slammed closed.  The Doctor took this as her cue to send them into the vortex.  
  
"So... when did we just leave?" asked the Doctor conversationally as they carried the man into the med bay and laid him gently onto a bed.  
  
The Master watched her as she checked the man over.  "I was taking a small stop over in Miami in the 1980's, if you truly must know."  He jumped in when she motioned him over as they cleaned out the large cut on the man's forehead and he passed her supplies as she stitched the cut.  "A purely self motivated stop.  Nothing at all to do with you.  More or less having to do with–"  He passed her a roll of bandages and more antiseptic.  "– my  personal banking situation from Spain."  
  
"Okay," the Doctor answered with a small nod.  "Next question... under what circumstances did you see me last?"  
  
The Master looked up at her so fast in shock that it was almost comical.  "Pardon me?" he asked.  
  
"You heard me."  She laid the man down and continued checking him over, but was satisfied with the fact that the worst of his injuries was a case of whiplash and the cut on his forehead.  "He has a mild concussion, but is in no danger and a slight case of whiplash that will give him a sore neck.  Physiotherapy and massage therapy should help that and he'll be as good as new in a week or two."  
  
"Wonderful, if you're quite done with the human..." the Master began.  "Your question suggests that there will be a circumstance in which we will meet slightly out of order."  
  
"We already are," answered the Doctor.  "So answer the question!"  
  
"Well, you just left Spain with those two other women... Jennifer and Donna, I believe," he answered finally.  "That is when I last saw you."  
  
The Doctor immediately felt a small tremor of guilt.  She hated predestined meetings but here it was.  This was how the Master knew how to find her on New Earth... she had told him herself.  "Master..." she began.  
  
"That's a first," he snorted, then sobered.  "Uh oh, if you finally call me by my desired name, then I truly dread what is coming."  
  
"Shut it," she snapped.  "When you leave me here, you need to go to the year to New Earth to a small area outside of New New York.  Head to the hospital there and inquire about a Thomas.  Do only what you need to... gently... get the information of where to find him and find him."  
  
The Master had this look on his face that was pure puzzlement and disbelief.  "Okay," he drawled out.  "Why?"  
  
"Because... I need you to do me a favour and you'll do it."  
  
"Why the hell should I?" he demanded.  
  
"Because." She walked up to him so that she was right in his personal space.  "I'd say you have a rather large obligation given what you did to my family so far."  
  
The Master had the sense to back down, but she knew he wasn't mollified one bit by her.  "All right, fine.  Will we be even when I do?" he asked.  
  
"Hardly," she answered.  "But it's a start."  
  
"I'll do it then," he said.  
  
"So, why are you here again?" she asked and then waved off his sigh.  "Yes, yes, I know, expediating some sort of monetary gain of some sort.  But why Miami?"  
  
The Master was quiet for a moment and then said, "My TARDIS brought me here, and when I stepped out I felt the paradox shifting underneath my feet.  Renegade I might be but I am still a Time Lord and... my long forgotten duty as one still stands.  We all took that oath when we were granted the status.  Well, I know I did.  I know he did.  The jury is still out whether you have officially."  
  
"I was an apprentice when Grandfather took me from Gallifrey – I had just completed my final year – so I had also taken my oath.  I take it seriously and I always have.  I take it that you finally came around to remembering yours?"  
  
He nodded and the Doctor stood up straight from the side of the trucker's bedside.  "Well, then.  Welcome back to the fold, Koschei."  
  
"Still can't call me the Master, can you?" he chuckled.  
  
"It doesn't suit you," she answered as they walked outside of the medical bay and across to the mysteriously conveniently placed kitchenette.  "And it has a connotation attached to it that I would rather avoid.  You are not my Master, nor have you ever been, nor will you ever be."  
  
"I could be a Master craftsman, and then where you be?"  
  
"Then you'd be the Master Craftsman, which you aren't still."  But his question, lightly asked, still brought a smile to her face.  "Stop it."  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
"Trying to be my friend."  
  
With a sigh he sat down at the table as she made tea.  "I understand that you haven't forgiven me for David.  Given the circumstances, I can hardly blame you and I do not even have the excuse of being plagued by the drums for that."  
  
"You also shot my Grandfather, in case you had forgotten.  I thought he was dead, and you let me believe it."  She set the tea cups down with a bit more force than perhaps were necessary and was thankful that the cups were not the finer porcelain that her grandfather used to be into but the more rugged pottery instead.  "Are you telling that when the Voice asked you do it in the Tomb of Rassilon that you didn't have the option of refusing?  I was there... if you remember... when the five versions of my grandfather and his companions were held out of time by the Time Scoop... and I remember that Voice asking me the same as he asked all of us.  The difference is that you accepted where we did not."  She sat down in front of him, crossing her legs and arms as she did so.  "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you didn't know what you were getting yourself into?"  
  
"No," he answered evenly.  "I believed that it was Rassilon himself, and I was right.  I believed I was doing my duty, finally after so many years of being an absolute criminal and renegade, that I was duty my duty as a Son of Gallifrey and that I was fulfilling my oath to protect the Weave of Time in listening to the Voice of Rassilon, the very creator of our way of life.  Can you fault me for that?  Yes, I admit it wasn't the most thought out, or wisest, decision in my life."  
  
"It was definitely misguided.  I think you forget just how Rassilon had ended up in that Tomb in the first place."  
  
"I was quickly reminded of it, let me tell you."  He took a breath.  "By then, of course, it was too late to go back on it.  Now... I'd rather stay out of sight and out of mind.  I do not wish to be like your grandfather – too high profile even among our own people – but instead slip into a quiet retirement like Chronotis but here I am facing you again like some spectre from my past to remind me of my most spectacular failures with none of the forgiving nature of her grandfather but carrying his name."  He looked at her.  "Enough of me.  You're not telling me everything either.  What happened here?"  
  
The Doctor stopped what she was doing for a moment but didn't answer.  He lifted a brow but she finally responded.  "A massive cluster fuck of a paradox from hell happened."  That lifted his other brow but she could see that it wasn't enough of an explanation for him.  She sighed again in a quick exhalation as if to blow non-existent bangs from her face.  "It involved a... I suppose he could be counted as one of my Grandfather's companions, but more of a friend, really.  He was somehow living two time-lines – one his actual and one that was altered. The altered time line was one he would have liked far better though."  
  
"How did it happen?" asked the Master.  
  
"I don't know," answered the Doctor, and she held up her finger before he could jump in again.  "And before you ask, no, I don't know how it resolved itself.  It just did."  
  
"What were you doing?" The Master leaned on the table, steepling his fingers.  "Investigation wise... I'm guessing you were trying to find and fix it."  
  
"Of course," she answered.  "It was in the middle of homing in on things that it resolved itself.  And you now know the rest."  
  
He leaned back when she finished.  She wasn't telling him everything... that he could literally sense rolling off her waves.  Something had gone sideways and she wasn't telling him.  He didn't care, really, as it was more her problem.  "Did you fix it?" she asked suddenly.  
  
"Hmm?  No, I was more or less 'homing in' on it as well when it disappeared on me.  I saw the TARDIS in the lorry crumple zone, and when I saw what it was carrying, I came to tell you to hurry up before it blew up," he answered, and, while still leaning back in the chair he folded his hands together.  
  
The gesture was both one to mean that while what he had to say was like throwing down the glove, he didn't mean it to be.  "You are not telling me everything," he stated bluntly, and when she went to respond, he shook his head, not moving otherwise.  "No, this time you are going to listen to what I have to say.  If you were telling me everything then you would have already homed in and fixed the paradox yourself before I managed to get this close to it.  You did not, which means something else happened first and during this little clusterfuck, as you like to call it.  Now..." He held up a hand to forestall her second attempt at jumping in.  "I don't mind not knowing all the details if I don't need to know them, but I felt I would lay that on the table.  Now that we're not kidding each other... perhaps two Time Lords are better than one."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" she asked guardedly.  
  
"I mean that you know the someone that was behind it.  Maybe not how to find them or why they did it, or why they fixed it in the end, but you know who it was.  And I can tell you're thinking of going after them.  If they got the upper hand on you the first time, then I damn well know... and so do you... that you need me."  The Master watched the Doctor's eyes narrow.  "Maybe not me specifically, but you need another Time Lord as back up.  It just so happens that I happen to be here."  
  
The Doctor appeared to consider this and then the Master was surprised when she sat down at the table.  "Fine.  What do we do first?"  
  
Anything else they had to say was interrupted by the sound of the trucker in the med bay waking up with a shout.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
 **ACT TWO**  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor ran into the med bay first and quickly pushed the panicking man back down onto the bed.  "Where the hell am I?" he demanded.  "Where is this?"  
  
"Relax, you're safe.  You had an accident with your lorry," answered the Master, running in quickly behind her.  
  
"My what?" asked the trucker.  "Wait a second, I know you from somewhere... hey... yeah... I know your face... it was all over the news a few years back.  Aren't you supposed to be dead?"  
  
"Well, isn't that lovely," the Doctor said, rolling her eyes.  "What's your name?"  
  
"It's Jon," he answered.  "Am I dead?"  
  
"By far not," answered the Master.  "Simple answer, I'm a look-a-like.  Make loads of money on the side by passing myself off as the crazy former Prime Minister of Britain."  
  
"Shit, man, you must make a killing because you look just like him," answered the trucker.  "So, where am I?  What hospital is this?  Last thing I remember was, er..."  
  
The Doctor lifted a brow.  "I'm the Doctor and this is, uh..."  
  
"Enrique De La Porta," he answered, letting his continental Spanish accent flavour his pronunciation instead of the soft, British accent that had actually rather been closer to her own central Canadian accent.  "And no, I'm not a doctor."  
  
"But she is," pointed out John.  "Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean to ignore you... but... uh... you didn't exactly give me your name."  
  
"Susan Foreman-Campbell," she answered.  " _Doctor_ Foreman-Campbell."  
  
"Doctor Foreman-Campbell, I wish I could say it's a pleasure but given the circumstances."  He looked around as if noticing something for the first time.  "Where's the rest of your staff."  
  
"Private clinic," answered both the Doctor and the Master at the same time.  
  
"Holy Jesus, I don't have money for one," he said quickly.  "My insurance won't pay you... erk."  
  
The Doctor had pushed him down again.  "Don't worry about it.  It was more or less my fault you ended up here anyway so consider it my apology for totalling your lorry."  
  
"My what?  Oh!  You mean the truck... oh shit... it's totalled?" he groaned as he put a hand to his head.  "I'm as good as fired now.  Well, there goes yet another job."  
  
"That sounds like you've got quite a story," said the Doctor as she shooed off the Master. "Go back and finish your tea, Master De La Porta."  
  
He snorted at her off handed way of mixing both his names together and left the med bay quickly to leave her to her work.  Once he was gone, Jon seemed to relax.  "I'm guessing he's the money man."  
  
"Far from it," responded the Doctor.  "It's my ship."  
  
"I thought you said it was a private clinic?"  
  
"On my ship."  
  
"Okay... so he's like a... what?  Chartered passenger?" asked Jon.  
  
"Not quite, but we'll go with that."  
  
"So you're a Captain and a Doctor... holy shit you don't go halfway, do you?" he asked, as he rubbed his head again.  
  
"Headache?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"Yeah, bit of a one," he answered.  
  
"Perfectly normal, and I can give you a mild analgesic to help with the headache but frankly the only thing that will help you will be plenty of sleep.  My medical equipment will tell me if your life signs drop so that I can prevent you falling into coma," she explained as she walked over and picked out a human friendly painkiller and poured him a glass of water.  
  
"Really roomy ship if your infirmary is this well stocked and this large.  So... where's the crew?" he asked.  
  
"I don't have a crew," she answered evenly.  
  
"With a ship this big?  You have to be shitting me," he looked at her in shock.  "What do you do to move around or is this boat permanently docked?"  
  
With a grimace, she answered, "To tell the truth, your truck ran into it but before that happened it moved plenty."  
  
"I... what?" he blinked and then groaned.  "Wow, I had hoped I'd only ran off the road and rolled the rig or something, not ran into something worth mega bucks.  Shit, lady, I'm sorry.  There's no way I can pay for the repairs and I have a feeling the company is going to be none to happy."  
  
"Ah, you see... that's what we have to talk about... your company probably thinks you dead from the damage done to the lorry... excuse me... rig.  Your shipment exploded and the rig is beyond recognition.  The cab was very badly crushed," she explained as she watched his expression.  
  
"And the damage to your ship?" he asked in a small, horrified, voice.  
  
"There was none, which is to be expected when the ship is a far denser, and solid, object for your rig to run into."  
  
"Look, Doc, I was no where anywhere near the docks big enough for a ship you're describing..."  
  
"My ship does not require a dock... it lands and hides itself.  You had no way of seeing it, and if you did what you saw would not have quite matched up with what you hit."  
  
He looked at her squarely.  "I'm sorry, but what?"  
  
"Jon... my ship does not travel in water.  It can float, but it is not it's natural environment.  It belongs... in space."  
  
He stared at her.  "Are you telling me I ran into the side of a space ship?" he asked in disbelief.  
  
"A time ship... called a TARDIS... if you must be specific."  
  
"This is a joke, where's the camera... wait..." He stopped then and stared at her.  "I remember something about a ship with that name in stories my parents used to tell me of a Doctor and his time ship called a TARDIS.  Oh my God... _the_ Susan Foreman... it's _you_.  It's really, really _you_... they weren't _just_ stories."  
  
He sat up and stared at her.  "You're _that_ Susan, and _that_ Doctor, aren't you?"  
  
"Er, yes?" she answered uncertainly.  
  
He took her hand and pumped it enthusiastically.  "My name is Jon, no, wait, I already told you that.  My name is Jon Chesterton... my parents are Ian and Barbara Chesterton."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The Master wandered back into the medical bay and he heard the lorry driver, or trucker as they were called in the US and parts of Canada, as he was enthusiastically telling the Doctor his entire life story.  But as he drew closer he realized that the trucker, Jon, was not exactly a stranger to the Doctor.  
  
"So, then this Marco Polo guy really did try to keep you and my parents from leaving?"  
  
"Yes, he was certain that we were his ticket back west," answered the Doctor, and she looked up at the Master as he entered, taking a sip of her tea as she did so.  "Ah, Enrique, Jon here has a history that is connected to me and my grandfather.  In fact, his parents were my grandfather's first human companions and my school teachers from Coal Hill."  
  
"How fascinating," drawled the Master.  "So what do we do with him now?"  
  
"I think that is up to Jon," pointed out the Doctor as she turned to Jon.  
  
Jon took a breath.  "Frankly, my career as a trucker is over and my parents and everyone probably thinks I'm dead.  Hell, if they found the rig it's as good as over."  
  
"Where are your parents living now?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"Still in London."  He figured out the next question before she asked it.  "Me?  I'm here because I decided I wanted something different.  I went into music and tried to make it as a musician but I have to work in other jobs to support my career.  I took up long distance hauling because it allowed me to travel anywhere and make extra money with my music.  Killed two birds with one stone.  Except..."  
  
"You've been more than one accident with your rig, I take it," said the Master.  
  
"Yeah.  Been fired once or twice for backing into or over things," he answered with a wince.  "I'm not so great at driving unless it's forward."  
  
The Doctor thought for a moment.  "What if you travelled with me for awhile... after we stop off at your parents to let them know you're not dead."  
  
"You'd do that?  You'd let me come with you?" asked Jon, his eyes widening.  "I'd love to."  
  
The Master felt the overbearing need to bang his head up against a wall.  It seemed that it was literally that easy for the Doctor to collect Companions and literally that easy to ask any human she came across if they'd like to go with her.  Small wonder the other Time Lord had always travelled with a bit of an alien entourage.  He cleared his throat and brought the conversation back to what he had to say.  "If I could interrupt, I wanted to go to my own TARDIS and perhaps check on a few readings myself."  
  
"Very well," said the Doctor as she, again, pushed Jon back down to the medical bed.  "You stay here and rest.  The Master and I can take care of this.  I will let you know when you are cleared."  
  
"Yes, Mum," grumbled Jon as he laid back down again.  
  
The Doctor led the Master to the console room and brought the TARDIS from the temporal hover and back into reality a discreet distance away from the wrecked rig.  The Doctor saw that they had shifted approximately six hours forward and six hundred feet away, and further away from the road, from the wrecked rig and the cordoned off investigation site.  They stepped outside, and the Doctor asked the Master, "How far away are we from your TARDIS?"  
  
"It's approximately a mile that way," he answered.  "I drove here."  
  
"Where is the car you drove?"  
  
"We're right beside where it should have been.  It's likely been towed by now," he answered.  "This wasn't exactly a great neighbourhood to leave a car."  
  
"Well, well, when I saw the interesting pattern on the crashed semi I had to find out if you would return so soon to the scene of the crime and I am so glad I was right," came a voice that made the skin crawl on the Doctor's back.  
  
"Commander," said the Doctor as she and the Master turned to face the woman.  
  
The Master schooled his expression into one of complete neutrality.  "Friend of yours?" he asked.  
  
"Not exactly," answered the Doctor, and from her tone the Master gathered that this Commander was an enemy.  "Commander, meet the Master.  Master, meet the Commander."  
  
"The Master?" The Commander lifted a pale brow in surprise as she turned her attention to him.  "Ah, yes, I recognize your face now.  Prime Minister Harold Saxon of Britain in... what year was that... 2007... 2008 or something like that?  Funny how you would be here now.  But we are all Time Lords here so let us dispense with the aliases.  Arphenionebindronym, Arkytioralarnalifanyare..."  
  
"... Doctor, I trust you have no idea who this Commander is, am I correct?" asked the Master, and without waiting for her answer he continued.  "Here, let me fill in the proper introduction... this is Leneheralyikaisa of House Paradox, a Matriarch... only a low one, but a Matriarch of that outcast House that once was part of Fanyarenosse... your House."  He turned back to the Commander.  "But your House wasn't happy with its role and needed to break out.  So it did.  But it didn't take long for the truth of what your ancestors were after to come to light... what they broke away to do so they could do it without the prying eyes of their own House and Chapter breathing down their necks.  And here you are again..."  He flicked his gaze back to the Doctor again. "I'm sure you remember the Inquisitor that was corrupting the time line in Spain, Doctor."  
  
"I do," answered the Doctor, and her voice turned cold.  "Ordinarily I would offer some sort of act of aid in return for you to change your ways but we both know you're way beyond any help I could give you that would return you to the fold because that's not what you're after, is it?  Fool me once, Leneheralyikaisa, shame on you... but I have no intention of letting you do it a second time."  
  
"She's the one who ordered the corruption of my people.  My town," the Master said.  "Has all her hallmarks."  
  
The Commander lunged at the Master, and the Doctor managed to knock what could have been a deadly surprise strike with a very long and sharp knife between the Master's two hearts.  The Master deftly dodged the strike and, using the Commander's own momentum, disarmed her.  She pulled out a second knife and slashed towards his midsection.  His quick feet and a short hop backwards barely pulled him out of harm's way.  
  
Adrenaline from the sudden searing pain of the blade slicing his skin pushed him forwards and he managed to get a hold of the arm with the knife, and she pulled a gun with her left and aimed it into his face, but his right arm... almost of its own volition, was already using a knife block with his arm to make her gun hand, and the shot, go wild to his right, missing him completely.  
  
With a particularly quick and savage kick up to her midsection, he shoved her away, making her gasp as she tried to regain her breath.  
  
When the Commander looked up she found the Master holding her gun to her head.  "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."  
  
"Because the toxin on my blade is going to knock you senseless in approximately three seconds," she answered, with a grim smile.  
  
He dropped before he could respond and she was about to finish the job as she was still holding the knife but the Doctor quickly slid in, grabbed the gun, aimed and then fired.  The shot wasn't enough to kill the Commander -- despite the Doctor's aim and intention to do so -- but it was enough to make the third Time Lord turn and flee.  The Doctor fired two more shots off, but neither hit her.  
  
The Master groaned, and the Doctor dragged him back to the TARDIS.  
  
The med bay would have two patients now.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
ACT THREE  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
The Master felt as if his ribs were on fire.  His eyes felt like lead, but when he finally managed to force them open he found himself with the rather odd view of looking up at the Doctor.  "You are turning out to be the most jeopardy friendly of all my Companions and that is saying something," said the Doctor drily.  "How do you feel?"  
  
"Sore," he answered, swallowing thickly.  "What was on that knife?"  
  
"From the lab results... a rather strong tranquilizer meant for Gallifreyans.  She meant to attack one of us and use that drug as a method to get a rather uneven playing field if we managed to defend ourselves.  She didn't foresee having two of us," she answered as he sat up.  "Take it slow.  It has a nasty tendency to rebound too.  It's a type of soporific meant for use as a surgical aesthetic.  Fast acting once in the bloodstream, long lasting.  I imagine you are feeling the side effects right now."  
  
The Master tried to get the room to stop spinning.  "If you could lend me a room to rest in I can take care of myself... or better yet... I'll give you the coordinates to my TARDIS.  Help me inside and to my own damn room and I'll be fine."  
  
"Oh no," she said.  "Much as I would love to be rid of you that easily, you're in no shape to go running off anywhere and certainly in no shape to take care of yourself.  Much to my dismay, you're stuck with me."  
  
"Sorry to be such a bother," he grumbled, but he felt the rebound effect as he felt lightheaded.  "Lay me down, please... I don't think I can do it myself without dropping to the floor."  
  
The Doctor gently helped him into a more comfortable reclined position.  "Rest now... I promise not to kill you in your sleep."  
  
"I don't feel sleepy... but I do feel as if now would be a good time to fill me in completely on how you managed to run into her," he said as he laid a hand across his eyes.  
  
At least the room wasn't trying to change or spin wildly while he was still in it.  "I swear I'll explain every last detail if you just rest some more.  I'll do it over a nice cup of tea once I have you in your own room... if the TARDIS even gives you a room.  She might not."  
  
He grunted and the Doctor mercifully lowered the lights so that the glare wasn't so harsh on his eyes.  The Master knew what he had done the last time he'd had access had made her hate him and want him dead... but now she was at least granting him a very grudging tolerance for his presence.  She wouldn't kill him, and she would allow him to be under the Temporal Grace field while on board... and she would extend life support for his presence.  But that was it.  
  
He fell asleep to the concerned hum of the TARDIS, more surprised by the fact that she was even communicating to him.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor checked on her other patient, and satisfied the two were sleeping soundly she retired to her own room.  She quickly asked the TARDIS to alert her of any change in their condition, or if they woke, before she stripped quickly and entered the shower in her private ensuite as she tried to sort through the complicated feelings that were swamping her.  
  
She tried to remember why she hated the Master so much... tried to conjure up the image of David right before the Master had shot him dead.  Tried to remember the horrified and then pain filled face as bullets from the same gun, in the same hands, then ripped through her Grandfather minutes later.  She slammed a fist into the tiled wall of the shower.  
  
It wasn't fair.  
  
They were both dead, albeit one much later than the other, and he still lived.  And now he had saved her life not once, not twice but three bloody times.  He almost had a valid excuse for his actions.  
  
It was only her upbringing and education in the Academy that helped her maintain the polite, but distant, facade.  
  
Her grandfather's forgiving nature was causing the walls to crack.  
  
She slid down the wall in the shower as the water cascaded down over her back and shoulders, making her hair hang limp and stick to her skin.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor was back in the medical bay by the time the Master woke again.  He assumed she must have left as her hair was clipped back in a no nonsense pony tail and appeared to be slightly damp.  Her clothes were also somewhat different. They were still the same general style but the details were changed.  Before she had been wearing a dark blue pair of jeans with a slight flared leg... all the rage in the time he had been Prime Minister... a collared blouse in off white with a short sleeved cardigan sweater over it in a dark brown with what appeared to be Oxford diamonds pattern and a dark olive green blazer.  
  
The blazer was no where in sight, but she was in a different pair of jeans that while dark blue had a wash to them and embroidery and decorative studding down the one side.  The fitted blouse was a pale blue long sleeved and its pinstripes white with understated frills on the sleeve cuff and lower hemline.  The Oxford style vest sweater was grey and white.  As usual she wore very little in the way of jewelry.  Just simple and unadorned, and small, silver sleeper earrings and her matrimonial ring set on her right hand including a third ring which was a keepsake anniversary ring... which all but screamed "widow" to his eye but to each their own.  "How long was I asleep?" he asked, as he then noticed that even that Jon Chesterton fellow wasn't in the med bay anymore either.  
  
"Ten hours," she answered.  
  
"Where's your other patient?"  
  
"In his own room," she answered.  "The medical scans have sufficiently determined that he is in no danger, but I advised him to rest and take it easy but other than that he is free to do as he pleases."  
  
"And me?"  
  
"Also in no danger, but I want to keep an eye on that cut so you are not going anywhere either until I'm satisfied with it."  She moved forward as she said this, and without any preamble stripped the sleep shirt up towards his neck in a brisk move.  "The bandage is a bit mussed up after ten hours of you sleeping, but..."  She delicately and gently removed it.  "Clean, and healing well.  I'd say you are able to move about on your own without having to sleep here but I would take it easy for a few days."  
  
"Thanks for the advice," he responded.  "Is this where we attempt to take me back to my TARDIS again?"  
  
She chuckled, and he found he liked the sound her low chuckle.  "No, I think we've had enough trouble with that as it is.  No, now we work together from here."  
  
He sat up and took a deep, relieved, breath at being able to do so.  "Good," he admitted.  "I wasn't looking to leave anyway."  
  
She looked as surprised by his statement as he was to say it.  "Er, that is to say I wasn't looking to leave before we finish with our investigation.  Speaking of which, you owe me a full explanation now that I just nearly had myself disemboweled in your defence."  
  
"Fine," she ground out, but it was said with a cool smile.  "The person who was living two time-lines was a friend, and former Companion, of my grandfather.  That's how he could tell he was living in two time-lines -- why he was aware of the shifts.  His time on the TARDIS left him with just enough artron energy to allow that."  
  
"Is that even possible?" asked the Master, surprised.  
  
The Doctor nodded.  "Martha Jones had her cellular structure altered by merely travelling on board the TARDIS.  The background radiation, harmless though it is... depending on your definition of harmless, anyway... changes the human genome and cellular structure in profound ways.  Not near the same as it does in a Gallifreyan or a Time Lord, but there are still changes.  Immune system response is drastically improved, cellular degradation due to the normal ageing process is slowed down... a peripheral awareness of the possibility of the Weave but not a true Time Sense.  In some cases there is even increased psychic awareness.  In one case... where two humans... er... got in on in the TARDIS and conceived a child within it the artron even caused the child to be a human-Gallifreyan hybrid with the capability of regenerating."  
  
"It did what?!" he exclaimed.  "Rassilon, if Lucy and I had..."  
  
He blushed pink and she nodded. "If you and Lucy had conceived a child, the fact that you're a full Gallifreyan Time Lord would have likely resulted in the Gallifreyan genes being dominant to the point of erasing the child's human genes... and perhaps have even resulted in the child being a natural born Time Lord instead of one requiring going through the Schism Ritual and the Imprimatur on graduation.  A Time Lord that was born a Time Lord versus being groomed into one."  She gazed at him meaningfully.  "All because of a bit of artron."  She waved this off.  "Side stories.  Canton was peripherally aware that he was in two time-lines but, without the time sense, could not sense why or when it happened.  It felt like a bad dream to him that was just too real."  
  
"And then what happened?" asked the Master.  
  
"Well, I investigated and as I got close I was kidnapped by the Commander and taken to an island off of Cuba for an extended stay with some criminal mob bosses... Italian mob.  Probably mafia," she answered.  "By the time I was allowed to leave the paradox had resolved itself... and you know the rest."  
  
"I see," he said.  "I figured something had delayed you.  But to know she had something to do with it."  He ran a hand in an unconscious motion on his stomach where he had been slashed.  "I'd like a chance alone with her again."  
  
"You would."  The Doctor's voice was sharp, but not without sympathy.  "Either way, we have to track her down.  This whole thing is all about what she's doing."  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
ACT FOUR  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
The Master was completely recovered within a few days.  It wasn't as fast as a younger Time Lord would heal, but it was far faster than a human.  Jon was also feeling much better, but the Doctor told him, "Jon, stay in the TARDIS.  Head injuries are not something you want to play around with."  
  
"But..." he started.  
  
"I mean it.  You came into this by accident.  I'd rather you stay alive on purpose," she said, her voice brooking no argument.  
  
"Yes, mother," came the Master vaguely sarcastic voice from behind the both of them, but he didn't say anything else considering her glare was absolutely _withering_.  
  
Forget the Oncoming Storm thousand yard stare like her grandfather, the original Doctor, had after the Time War.  This Doctor's glare was easily a thousand times nastier.  There was no 'oncoming' anything about it.  The storm had struck and left marks in the ground that used to have the name the Master.  Then again this one had no issue with shooting him stone dead either... and probably still would if he so much as gave her the merest reason not to need him around.  He was under no illusions that the amicable and polite banter was simply smooth icing on a layer cake made of razors.  Looked pretty, sounded nice... and while what was underneath was beautiful in its own deadly way was both dangerous and potentially deadly.  
  
Steel hidden under silk.  
  
He had to admit it was a dangerous fire he liked to play with.  The Rani had always been fun that way too, and Romana was always a fascinating adversary that had always commanded his full respect.  Leela had scared him while turning him on in ways that he denied... ways that when he closed his eyes with Lucy he had pretended it was another woman with a name that started with an "L" but to which there was no comparison.  
  
Well.  
  
Not until his 'resurrection' gone wrong in time for the culmination of the drums and then Lucy had shown her well hidden steel.  How he had never managed to see that one coming stunned him while he was inwardly pleased.  Most thought he liked the strong ones because they were that much more satisfying when finally broken.  It reality he liked the constant challenge... The even footing at all times.  Someone to bounce ideas off of, especially if they didn't agree with him, that honed any ideas to the razor sharp edge until there was no doubts, no details left unfigured.  I's dotted and T’s crossed.  
  
And the Master was back to razors again.  What had been thinking about?  
  
Oh yes, the new Doctor and his rather tenuous partnership with her.  
  
He turned his focus back to what she was saying, even though he was still filing away the information to use later.  
  
"Right then," she continued.  "As much as I cannot believe I am about to say this... the Master will stay here and use the TARDIS to monitor from here."  
  
He lifted his eyebrows.  "I'll _what?_ "  
  
"You're still recovering, which mean... you need to stay here and rest." She sighed and rolled her eyes.  "Yes, that means I have to trust you to actually do as you're supposed to with the TARDIS."  
  
"It's not like you can't chase me down in mine," he pointed out.  "So, frankly, there's no point in stealing it.  And she'll only tell you if I've done anything to do.  Again, no point to doing it.  Not that I care to.  I'm over that part of my life."  
  
"Then why haven't you changed your gods awful name?"  
  
"What would I change it _to?_ " She didn't have an answer to his question.  "See, so it stays."  
  
"What about your own name?" asked Jon.  
  
"Or the one you like to use from Spain," suggested the Doctor.  "Or even Koschei."  
  
"All right already, I get the point!" retorted the Master, pinching the bridge of his nose.  "The reason I haven't changed it is because I'm rather attached to it, thank you very much."  He looked up as something occurred to him.  "Wait a minute.  Where are you going?"  
  
"Someone has to be out there actually looking for the Commander and her cronies.  I'm going to do what I do best..."  
  
"... Oh _no_..."  
  
"... Be visible."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor followed the sensor trail, aided by the Master who would occasionally choose to add in his two cents once and awhile.  She was walking -- well... more like meandering -- through a park side beach in Miami and she definitely approving the view.  Given that it was the eighties, almost the nineties, there were lots of young, tanned and very buff, men around her apparent age wandering the beach in nothing but those Speedo style bathing suits.  
  
Not what she was looking for but at least it was a lovely substitute for the time being, if a bit distracting.  However, the instruments had led them straight to the beach.  
  
And then past it and into the water.  
  
"Not again!" She threw her hands up into the air, and then adjusted the earpiece so that she could hear better.  "Koschei, the readings are leading us into the water and off shore."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Positive."  
  
"What's with the 'not again'?" he asked.  
  
"Had a temporal issue off shore before... right before we headed to Spain, actually," she answered.  
  
"Do you think it's related?"  
  
"Possibly," answered the Doctor, and then she thought of something.  "Wait one minute here, you may be onto something."  
  
She pulled out a map from her backpack and rolled it out on the sand, marking where Jet had been killed in Miami.  And then another one, marking where the Torchwood mission had been.  She marked where the readings were leading her, and then interconnected them with a ruler.  
  
They formed a perfect equilateral triangle... exactly like the one that House Paradox was using to signify their "Family".  The Doctor straightened up, still on her knees, looked out over the water, shading her eyes to see better.  "Kos, there's a boat out where we triangulated the signal to be."  
  
"There's something else... I can hear it in your voice."  
  
"I have a bad feeling about this entire thing," she said.  
  
"I hate it when someone says that," he groaned.  "Usually it was about me, and the Doctor was onto what I was doing, so it meant my plans were going sideways, but I am seriously beginning to dislike being on the flip side of this coin and hearing it too."  
  
"Oh, stop your moaning," she retorted.  "I'm heading back... wait..."  
  
"Doctor, what are you doing?" asked the Master, crinkling his brow.  
  
She had this unusual ability to get herself out of trouble, and he wasn't being left out of this one.  He had a score to settle with the Commander and he'd be damned if he did not get a chance to settle it.  If the Doctor got herself into trouble he would lose that chance because then she would naturally have to get herself out of trouble and, of course, stop the plan and catch the bad guy.  
  
This time he wanted to be there.  
  
The bitch had tried to kill him, not the Doctor, but him and he wanted even.  "Doctor?" he asked again, concern flavouring his tone.  "Dammit!"  
  
She had already gotten herself into trouble... he could feel it.  
  
And it would figure that he would have to save her.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The Doctor woke up and found that she was hanging upside down from a gantry full of chains.  The floor was a grate that was below her by five feet.  Obviously whom ever had hung her up intended her to be at face level and they weren't very tall.  She looked around and saw chained to the wall, but at a level where they could sit on the floor, were Martha Jones and Mickey Smith.  Their dirty clothes were more a type of black fatigues and Martha's hair was longer while Mickey's was shaved short like her grandfather's ninth incarnation.  "Can I ask a strange question?" she asked.  
  
Martha nodded and the Doctor asked, "Is my face familiar to you?"  
  
They both shook their heads.  "Great.  Next question, what year is this?" asked the Doctor.  
  
"What year?" asked Martha.  "Oh, you must travel with the Doctor."  
  
"Something to that effect," answered the Doctor.  
  
"It's 2008," answered Mickey.  
  
"Ah," said the Doctor.  "Well, when I last checked it was 1988.  Twenty years.  Hmm, wonder if that means anything..."  
  
"If it helps, it's November 19th... or it was when we were captured," said Martha.  
  
"It was in the summer in Miami where I was, so that means little at this point," said the Doctor with a sigh.  
  
Mickey looked her up and down.  "We figured it might have something to do with the Doctor when we were captured.  Or UNIT.  It was a fifty/fifty coin flip until you showed up."  
  
"Could still be."  
  
"You're UNIT?" asked Martha.  
  
"Not strictly, but I have dealings with them as an independent consultant."  
  
"So, who are you?" asked Mickey.  
  
"For the time being, you can call me Susan," she answered.  
  
Just then the door opened and the Commander walked in.  "Ah, Doctor, you have a habit of being in the most interesting places."  
  
"Or you could call me what you've always called me," finished the Doctor, to Martha and Mickey, who now gaped at her openly.  "Hello again.  I can explain everything later.  First... Commander.  How nice to see your legs again.  Wish I could say your face, but whom ever put me up here must have been shorter than you.  So, I'm guessing my TARDIS is still in in 1988?"  
  
"You assume you're not still in 1988," said the Commander.  
  
"Considering they're here, that'd be a no," answered the Doctor.  
  
"But we're so good at overlapping things, surely you've noticed that by now."  
  
"So... we're in both 1988 and 2008?" The Doctor was shocked.  "That could destroy the weave of time in this spot and make it dangerous... please, you have to..."  
  
A punch to her gut silenced her as she tried to gasp air back into her lungs.  "Next time you talk out of turn, Doctor, it's your friends.  Whether they know this you of you yet or not.  But isn't that a lovely paradox... they'll eventually know this you but not at this point in your time line," the Commander walked over to Martha and ran a manicured nail along her jawline.  "Your grandfather always did pick the pretty ones.  Perhaps I should kill them now."  
  
"I swear to you if you hurt my friends you'll know why the Daleks called him the Oncoming Storm," gritted out the Doctor finally.  "And why I live up to it, too."  
  
"Maybe later," the Commander stood up again and walked out of the room, but not before throwing a freezing cold bucket of water onto the Doctor.  "Chill out for a bit."  
  
She laughed at her own pun as the door clanged shut.  
  
"Are you all right, Doctor?" asked Martha in concern, pulling herself as close as she could get before the manacle on her left wrist stopped her.  
  
It was just a few inches out of reach.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," answered the Doctor, her teeth already starting to chatter.  "More concerned about you two."  
  
"We aren't the ones that are going to end up catching their death of cold," answered Mickey.  "Wait, she said your grandfather was the Oncoming Storm, and you said you live up to it.  What did that mean?"  
  
"If I tell you now..." The Doctor tried to get control of her chattering teeth.  "Paradox.  You'll find out later."  
  
"Paradox is already happening," said Martha.  
  
"The Doctor you know died from age... I am his granddaughter, but in his stead I travel as the Doctor because the universe needs the Doctor..." answered the Doctor.  "I, too, was born on Gallifrey and raised there.  His middle son by his first wife, Patience, was my father, whom would be called Hawke.  You could also say I was his first companion -- the first to accompany him in the TARDIS on that first trip away from Gallifrey.  It was only right that I inherit his legacy."  
  
The two were quiet and then Mickey asked, "Are you travelling alone?"  
  
"Not exactly," answered the Doctor.  
  
Martha crinkled her brows.  "What exactly does that mean?"  
  
"I was but I'm not now... for now, anyway.  I am pretty sure they're temporary as the other one has his own damn TARDIS and the first is only there because he had the dubious distinction of wrecking his lorry and requiring medical assistance," answered the Doctor.  "Neither of them were well enough to accompany outside the TARDIS."  
  
"Wait, what..." Martha was interrupted by the sound of the TARDIS materializing in the room.  
  
The Master poked his head out.  "See, this is what happens when you don't listen to me.  You get into trouble..."  He looked past the Doctor to Martha Jones.  "Oh... shit.... ah... I can explain this."  
  
"How about getting me down first?" asked the Doctor.  "Before the Commander comes back as she's likely heard the TARDIS..."  
  
The Master ran over and, while holding the Doctor's shoulders so she wouldn't end up impacting the steel grate head first, sonicked the chains open.  The Doctor's feet hit the ground while the Master held her from behind as the blood ran back to where it was supposed to be and she wobbled woozily.  He helped her sit and released Martha and then Mickey.  Martha stared daggers at him and demanded, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you now."  
  
"Because if you do, there's another paradox and he's drum-less," answered the Doctor for him.  "When you remember this, get me to explain why he's as much a victim as the rest of us.  Mostly."  
  
"Thanks," came the Master's sardonic reply.  "Now, if I'm right the apex of this is down that way."  
  
"And you would know this how?" asked Mickey.  
  
"One, I'm a Time Lord.  Two... well..."  
  
"He's caused one or two paradoxes, on purpose," answered Martha coldly.  "Mickey, this is the Master."  
  
Mickey stared at the Master just as coldly as Martha was.  "Oh."  
  
The doors clanged open and Mickey charged the first of the guards in an excellent impression of an American football linebacker to the point that the Doctor actually had to curb the urge to yell out the word touchdown.  The Master disarmed the second one in a neat, to the point, jab to his wrist.  The gun fell to the floor and Martha grabbed it and threw it to Mickey, who caught it, turned the safety off, chambered a shot and aimed it at the guard laying on the ground.  "In the room," said Mickey.  
  
The guards sullenly entered the room and the Master removed their radios.  "Don't need you calling for help now," he said as he shut and barred the door.  "Now for the Commander."  
  
"I can't believe I'm working with you," muttered Martha as she looked skyward.  
  
The Master turned to her.  "I did just save your asses."  
  
"I know!  And that's the part that makes this surreal," she retorted.  "Why are you helping, anyway?  And what does the Doctor mean you no longer have the drums?"  
  
"Long story short..." started the Master as they moved through the corridors, following the Doctor's scanner.  "I was mostly half possessed by another Time Lord, actually perhaps the equivalent of of the god of Time Lords and driven to the point of insanity because for half my life my mind wasn't even my own.  It was like all my worst aspects were... amplified and my self control erased.  It was complicated and really rather unpleasant... until that link was broken and I regained my mind, anyway."  
  
"So the whole thing with the Year That Never Was on the Valiant was this possessed you and not the real you?" asked Mickey.  
  
"That'd pretty much sum it up, yes," answered the Master, then he motioned to the Doctor.  "Perhaps it would be best to save story time for later."  
  
"I don't forgive you," said Martha.  "Even with that for an excuse."  
  
The Master sighed.  "And I don't blame you."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The four of them walked into the room warily.  Not seeing any guards did not necessarily equate to not mean there wasn't any guards in the room.  "Is that a console?" asked Martha.  
  
"Yes and no," answered the Master.  
  
"Isn't it beautiful?" asked the Commander from somewhere above them.  "The basic mechanics of a TARDIS without being one.  All the power without any of the control... as it should be the power of Time itself in the hands of a Time Lord and not some quasi being."  
  
"Are you mad?" demanded the Doctor.  "The whole reason we use the TARDIS bio-tech is because of that... a Time Lord cannot see all of Time and all of the Multiverse without burning up but a TARDIS core can and does without tearing the Weave apart!"  
  
"As it should be!  Think of the possibilities, Doctor!  All things existing, all times touching.  There would be no more loss, no more partings.  Nothing would fade and die."  
  
"On the contrary, there'd be nothing left," retorted the Master.  "We'd all be dead but we wouldn't realize it because Time would dilate.  It would be like standing in a black hole with no protection."  
  
"Uh, you can't stand in a black hole," said Mickey quietly.  
  
The Master sighed.  "Shows what a human knows."  
  
"You lie! We'd be like gods!  Every last one of us!" she shouted back down.  
  
The Doctor leaned over to the Master.  "Can you tell where she is from the sound of her voice?"  
  
"Yes, I can," he answered, and then he took off to the side and into the gloom.  
  
"No, wait... I didn't... dammit."  The Doctor looked back at Martha and Mickey.  "Keep on your toes.  Things are going to happen very, very fast now."  
  
"Where has he gone?" demanded Martha, quietly.  
  
"The last time these two met the Commander managed to seriously wound and nearly kill him.  I'd say he wants payback," answered the Doctor grimly.  "I'd hoped that he wouldn't get his chance, but now that he is there's no point crying over spilt milk.  We'd best get that console shut down and dismantled while he has her attention elsewhere.  Watch my back..."  She tried to walk over to the console, but gunfire prevented her from getting all the way there.  "Don't be stupid, Commander.  Rassilon was wrong about this and my grandfather stopped him.  You're no Rassilon."  
  
There was a short bark of laughter but it cut off quickly as the gunfire was suddenly concentrated elsewhere.  The Doctor ran to the console and began to push buttons.  Mickey watched the door and with Martha's help they prevented any of the guards from entering by firing in their direction.  
  
The gunfire from the two of them wasn't meant to kill but meant to prevent them from hitting the Doctor, and to prevent from from getting through the door.  It was an effective discouragement as the guards stayed behind the cover of the doorway in the hall.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The Master ducked back behind the steel wall of the gantry as sparks few past his head from the gunfire.  One gun, which meant she was likely alone or only had one armed guard and she herself was unarmed except for that damn poisoned knife.  When the gunfire died down he ducked his head out, saw that she was alone and then darted into close range with her.  She managed to bring the gun up and fire off a few shots.  
  
All but one went wide and he gritted his teeth at the sudden pain in the outside of his shoulder.  Flesh wound, nothing serious and certainly not deadly.  He knocked the gun out of her hand by grabbing her wrist and forcing it to the steel rail.  She gasped in sudden pain and reflexively opened her hand, which caused the gun to fall to the floor below.  The Doctor, he saw, had to jump to the side to avoid having it land on her head.  
  
She bent down quickly and picked it up, tucking it into the back of her pants after quickly turning the safety on and dechambering the round.  After that she went back to shutting down the console.  
  
The Master elbow punched the Commander in the face.  She stumbled back, clutching her face with her other hand while reaching around to pull out the knife.  This time the Master was ready and as she pulled it from its sheath he caught her hand with both of his.  She countered by grabbing at his hands.  
  
The dance now was between the two of them as they struggled to gain control of the knife and avoid getting stabbed.  Her knee to his groin nearly saw his end, but he brought his leg up to block and her knee bounced off his thigh.  He stomped on her foot.  
  
She lost grip for a fraction of a section... it was all he needed as the knife slid home.  
  
For a few seconds they were close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek and the shock in her eyes.  
  
And then, ever so slowly, the light in her eyes faded and she fell to the ground, the knife right above and between her two hearts where the binary system merged into one.  The knife handle was still in his hand -- the blade had broken off in the Gallifreyan equivalent of the sternum.  He threw it aside and walked back down the steps as the console went dark leaving the room lit only in the emergency lighting.  
  
"Back to the TARDIS!" yelled the Doctor.  "The Paradox is resolving itself!"  
  
"Doctor!" screamed Martha as she and Mickey faded from sight.  
  
The guards also disappeared.  
  
Moments later, so did the ship as she and the Master dropped fifteen feet into the water.  A short distance away, the TARDIS bobbed in the waves.  The body of the Commander slid below the waves and disappeared as only the circling sharks marked where she had been.  Her blood in the water distracted them enough for the Master and the Doctor to quickly swim to the TARDIS and use it as a life raft as they drifted.  
  
While the sat on the side of it, the Master said.  "Well, that was bracing.  You do this all the time?"  
  
For the first time since he had actually met her, the Doctor smiled this bright smile that met her eyes.  "Why, you thinking of signing up?"  
  
"Hardly," he snorted.  "Just thinking it's not exactly the safest career choice.  No wonder he went through his regenerations so fast.  Made my life look safe my comparison.  Just wondering why anyone would do it willingly."  She waited and then his smirked.  "Okay, maybe the adrenaline rush is worth it... but..." He held up a finger and pointed it at her.  "I am not joining you.  I've had enough.  I retire."  
  
The seagulls were the only answer he received...  
  
... That and the Doctor's ringing laughter.


	13. Chapter Twelve:  The Miracle (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master finds himself in the truly odd position of having to take the Doctor's place when time itself makes it as if the Doctor was never born in the first place.

The Master watched as the Doctor checked things over on the console, drying himself off from the unexpected swim in the Atlantic ocean.  She had changed from her soaking wet clothes to a simple but deep burgundy dress and a mustard yellow cardigan.  Human cut clothes but with a vague, simple, Gallifreyan style and the colour was clearly of her Chapter.  He wondered idly where she had dug that out of.  
      
"So..." he started.  
      
She looked up in surprise at the sound of his voice.  "Ah, yes, it's best we get you back to your TARDIS so you can be off to New New York.  And remember... Brannigan, he's cat kind.  Wife name Valerie, human.  I'll be there but in my time line far before this," she answered as she threw a switch and the TARDIS rematerialized into real space and on Earth.  
  
He opened the door, and, much to his surprise, his TARDIS was a mere ten feet or so away.  The Master looked longingly at his own TARDIS and then back to the Doctor.  She looked puzzled at his indecision.  "You can't seriously want to stick around with me," she asked, a note of sardonic questioning in her tone.  "We hate each other.  You killed David, I killed you and stole that TARDIS out there from you, and then you would constantly keep trying to kill and torment my grandfather.  We're not meant to get along."  
  
"Bygones and all that," he answered, quietly.  "We aren't the same as we once were."  
  
She was quiet and then, in answer to his not quite a question, was a soft; "No... we aren't."  Then she cleared her throat.  "But time lines and all that."  
  
He blew out a breath.  "Time lines.  Yeah..."  He looked back at her.  "You'll be all right in here by yourself?"  
  
"Give me some credit," she retorted, but it held no heat.  "And there's Jon."  
  
"Right, right, Jon Chesterton.  Son of your schoolteachers and your grandfather's first human companions."  He nodded and then looked up.  "Well, then, onwards and upwards.  Take care of yourself, Doctor."  
  
"You as well... Master," she said, a small smile gracing her face.  
  
 _You're a lot prettier with that_ , he thought back at her.  _The smile, I mean._  
  
He stepped off the TARDIS and didn't get a chance to hear a reply.  The TARDIS had simply vanished as if it never was, leaving him and a very confused Jon Chesterton standing on the sidewalk.  "What the hell just happened?" asked Jon.  
  
The Master had no idea, but before he could even formulate a reply pain as sharp and hot burnt through his synapses.  He doubled over from it, as it spread from his head and seemed to work into every nerve and every part of him.  He felt like he was on fire and frozen at the same time... as if he had been thrown into the heart of a sun and the heat was so hot that it was now cold.  At the same time it felt like as if his stomach and intestines had been flipped inside out and knotted.  The worst part was that the Master couldn't even scream... he was left helpless on the hot Miami cement with his mouth open and gaping like a fish out of water.  His respiratory bypass might have even kicked in.  
  
Slowly, so slowly, awareness came back to him in a sort of fugue wooziness and he could hear Jon calling him and in desperation he clutched at the younger man's shoulder.  "The TARDIS..." he ground out.  
  
"Gone... it's gone, Master.  What do I do?  How can I help you?" he asked frantically.  
  
"Not her TARDIS..." The Master bit back another groan.  "... Mine."  
  
He pointed -- or tried to -- but his hand flopped uselessly around.  Jon saw the column, and helped the Master to his feet and half carried, half dragged the Time Lord to his TARDIS.  The Master laid a hand on the doors and then the human man helped him into his TARDIS.  With what fading consciousness he held, the Master called to it, pleaded with it.  _Come on, you... take me where I need to be_... and the irony of the plea wasn't lost on him.  He would have laughed if he'd had the breath to do so.  
  
The TARDIS doors slammed shut and the console came to life.  It took five or so minutes and then the console settled again.  Gulping air as the pain slowly subsided and normalcy seemed to return, the Master got up shakily and looked at the screens.  He then jumped up and ran to the doors.  A low rumble shook the TARDIS and moments later the doors opened.  
  
The Master recognized the Torchwood Three Hub in Cardiff, the one that rested under the Plas.  
  
Or rather, what was left of said Hub.  
  
"Grab who you can, now!" he yelled at Jon and the other man jumped into action.  
  
The two of them grabbed the closest people, totalling four, and dragged them onto the TARDIS just as everything settled.  
  
The Master tentatively looked out the doors again to see the full extent of the damage.  
  
It was a disaster... all that remained was rubble.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
 **ACT ONE**  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
Bodies lay on the floor of his TARDIS, but they weren't dead yet.  The Master was a bit out of his element.  He wasn't in the business of saving lives -- that had always been in the realm of the Doctor -- but here he was having to do this.  The Master moved quickly from one to the other, categorizing their injuries between what he could treat and what he couldn't, and then to the most serious.  He and Jon were in the middle of saving a young man, barely out of his thirties, with a rather nasty cut to his head.  
  
It was not as serious as the Master thought, so he quickly slapped on a few self-heal bandages on the cut that would heal and pull the rough edges together without risk of infection.  
  
The first casualty then stopped breathing, and the Master felt the ending of their time line.  Even before it had never been a feeling he relished.  Jon looked at him as the Master paused momentarily, and then went back to the injured man.  "There was nothing we could--" The Master began to say when that same person started breathing again, startling the Master into swearing, loudly.  "What in the name of the Void?!"  
  
Jon jumped up and rushed over, looking the woman over.  "She's alive... but she had just died, Master."  
  
"That can't be... unless Harkness has somehow managed to spawn himself..." muttered the Master, but sure enough, he could sense the continuance of her time line where before it had ended.  He left the young man and ran over to her and looked her over with a penlight, checking her responses.  "Response is good, if sluggish.  This doesn't make sense!  She died... and even if she started breathing again she should have no response to external stimuli at all."  
  
"What does this mean?" asked Jon.  "What do we do?"  
  
The Master hesitated for the briefest of moments, not that the human could notice.  In that short span of time, he had enough time to consider his next few moves.  "We take them out of danger and make them as comfortable as possible.  Enable proper healing and let... and let whatever this is take them the rest of the way back into healing.  The less injured ones we take care of next, get them all the way.  Fix them up and then observe.  Go back to these ones and do what we have to... treat them as a critical injury instead of as good as dead.  If they aren't going to give up, neither are we."  He looked up and towards where the infirmary was on his TARDIS.  It wasn't nearly as well stocked, or roomy, as the Doctor's TARDIS but it would have to do.  "There's anti-grave stretchers in the infirmary.  We can both handle one that way we can transport two at a time back there.  I only have two beds, so we'll put this one and the other more seriously injured one in there.  The lighter injured ones will be moved to..."  That was a good question.  He also only had one well appointed space for sleeping -- his.  The other two living quarters were little else but barrack style sleeping quarters.  "Move them across the hall to the one dorm style sleeping space and lay them on the nearest cots, closest to the deck.  You'll have your pick of upper level cots."  
  
It was the longest he had ever spoken and he took a tired breath, running a hand over his face.  Jon, to his credit, didn't stick around but immediately upon the Master pausing went to do as ordered.  Time was of the essence, the mysterious lack of dying not withstanding.  It wouldn't do to leave them in pain and the woman, he suspected, was in need of surgery as soon as possible.  Not something he was relishing.  
  
Medicine, particularly xeno-medicine, was not his forte.  
  
He truly wished the Doctor were here... he truly did.  Or someone else -- anyone else.  He rifled through pockets looking for identification and found an identification card clipped to the inside of her jacket.  Gwen Cooper.  The Master looked down at the woman and finally had a face for the name.  "Gwen, my name is..." Oh drat, how to handle this... well... his face was going to give him away anyway.  "Harold.  Listen to me... you're going to fine.  Don't you dare give up on me, you hear me?  That's an order."  
  
Jon came back, guiding the two stretchers, somehow using one to cart the other.  With a shared glance, they shifted Gwen to the first one and the Master quickly used the hidden paramedical kit underneath to further stabilize and clean her.  With a simple saline drip and human friendly painkiller in her, she seemed less drawn.  An oxygen mask helped get rid of the blue tinge.  
  
He remembered then that Jon had asked another question before.  Honestly, the Master didn't know what was going on.  He sure as hell wasn't going to admit it to the human but that thought, in his more than capable of carrying two full time thoughts brain, was rattling around and making him more and more uneasy.  "In answer to your first question, I am not sure," answered the Master as he worked, and Jon looked up.  "I'm not sure what to suspect and right now isn't exactly the best time to figure it out."  
  
"But you have a suspicion?"  
  
The Master nodded as he then moved to the next:  a balding man that thankfully had not resorted to the dreaded comb-over but instead had cropped what remained of his hair to a short, no no-nonsense style.  He was dressed in a fine suit, and when the Master looked at his card, it said his name was Peter Tyler and the current Director of Torchwood Three.  
  
 _So no Jack Harkness_ , mused the Master momentarily before briskly checking the man over.  One eye was sluggish which indicated a more severe concussion, and the bleeding ears suggested broken eardrums.  Some rigidity along his side also suggested some internal bleeding.  No surprise there.  They moved Pete to the second stretcher and, again, the Master ran the IV, oxygen mask and other items.  With a nod to Jon they transferred these two to the TARDIS medical bay and lifted one after the other from the stretchers to the medical beds.  With a quick flip of a button, the Master set the auto-doc feature to ON and led Jon, with the now empty beds, back to the TARDIS console room where the two men still were unconscious.  "Are you going to tell me?" he asked.  
  
The Master looked over at Jon in surprise.  "I had considered not."  
  
"You're as bad as my parents say the Doctor was," responded Jon.  
  
This earned the younger human a snort in humour.  "Be that as it may, I am not used to explaining my thoughts to another."  The Master shrugged.  "Maybe it might do to bounce my ideas off of something marginally more intelligent than a wall."  
  
"Thanks... I think," answered Jon, and he made a motion to prompt the Master on.  
  
With a sigh, the Master answered, "I think... and I stress think... that there is some sort of time bubble in the area.  Perhaps wider than that.  I have no way of telling and no way of confirming either way."  
  
"I think it's wider, I heard work going on outside the TARDIS which means it's not just around this location.  There are others," said Jon.  
  
The Master stopped to listen and he could, too, hear the sounds of machines being moved into place somewhere above them.  "We have to work faster."  The Master knelt on the ground.  "You're not half as useless as I had been led to believe humans were.  I'm beginning to see why the Doctor travelled with them."  
  
"My parents were the Doctor's first companions," said Jon.  "Well, first of not being whatever he was."  
  
"Quite right."  
  
"Ironic that their son would be your first real Companion," pointed out Jon and the Master really looked at him in shock as the reality of it finally sank in.  
  
He was the Master's 'Companion'.  His first real one... first one there by his own choice and able to make his own decisions and the first the Master had ever confided his real thoughts too.    
  
One survivor was a black man, a rather sturdy, if short, built one.  The Master looked at his id and discovered his name was Richard Smith.  The name meant literally nothing to him, but the next man's -- the one that he had treated first -- did.  
  
Ianto Jones.  
  
Finally had a face for that name, and while the Master didn't swing that way, he could understand why Jack had chosen this particular man.  Ianto they lifted to a stretcher, and the Master did the exact same for Ianto as he did the others, and they moved on to Richard.  With all four taken care of, the Master led Jon to the barrack immediately across the corridor from the medical bay.  He then changed his mind.  "Don't bother with moving them for now," said the Master.  "The stretchers will suffice.  Stay with them so they don't awaken alone.  Come for me if either of them do.  I'm going to see what I can do for the others."  
  
"All right," said Jon, with a nod as he sat down in one of the chairs.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
With a sigh, the Master stretched the kinks out of his lower back.  Both Peter and Gwen were now out of immediate danger.  In hospital terms a doctor would have said they were in critical, but stable condition.  He walked out of the medical bay, darkening it a bit, and almost was bowled over by Jon.  "What is it?" he asked.  
  
"The first one, that one with the cut forehead, is awake."  
  
The Master sighed and walked in, noticed the double, then triple, take by Ianto Jones as well as how very well hidden the reaction was.  "Greetings, Mr. Jones.  You're in no danger.  I treated you as well as I could but I'm no medical expert."  
  
"You're the Prime Minister... that one that was shot.  Harold Saxon," said Ianto, suspiciously.  "But you're not dead."  
  
"No, I'm not," answered the Master.  "And neither are you, before you ask.  My name is... well... not really Harold Saxon and you may call me the Master, if you would.  It is my preferred name."  
  
"I... see..." said Ianto.  "Where are the others?"  
  
"Recovering."  The Master made a motion to prevent Ianto from getting up.  "Stay put.  Least injured or not, you are still injured.  Now, if you're up to it, you can answer a few questions."  
  
"Ask away," answered Ianto.  
  
"How many others were in Torchwood when it blew?  I counted four... how accurate is that?  Should I be looking for other survivors?"  
  
"That's technically one question, sir," answered Ianto, a bit surprised.  "In answer, there are seven currently on the roster for Torchwood Three, with others floating in and out.  At present there should have been eight on the premises today, but a few of them stepped out, which means only one is still missing and likely still in the Hub."  
  
"Who?" asked the Master.  
  
"Jack Harkness, Jackie Tyler and Martha Jones, sir," answered Ianto.  "However, Jack and Martha had gone out to get coffee, so it is possible they were not in the Hub at the time of the explosion."  
  
"So, only Jackie is missing," the Master confirmed, and then he pointed at Jon.  "You stay here with them."  
  
The Master turned and ran down the corridor towards the console room and to the doors beyond.  He swung them open, just as Jon yelled, "Ianto said she'd be right where you found him, sir!"  
  
"Thank you!" yelled the Master back as he picked his way out into the rubble.  
  
Looking around, and using his laser screwdriver as a probe set to find life, he quickly narrowed down his search.  He threw one piece of rubble after another until finally the woman was revealed beneath.  Surprisingly she was conscious, cowered under a table.  She looked at him in surprise and then hugged him in desperate relief.  "Thank God, I though' I was a goner under there!" she exclaimed and then let him go, looking around for a way out.  
  
The sound of heavy machines started and he could hear, even if she couldn't, the first warning sign that the rubble above was about to slip and crush them both.  He pushed her through the wreckage before he saw the welcome sight of his TARDIS.  
  
"This way, madam," he pointed and then helped her out of the rubble and into his TARDIS, warily eyeing the teetering beam above them.  
  
If it moved, they were both dead.  
  
Or not, as the case appeared to be, considering the state of death's holiday lately.  He refused to laugh at his own wordplay and pushed her along.  Sure enough, the minute they were into his TARDIS the beam fell and dust rolled into the TARDIS and covered them both before the doors could close.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
 **ACT TWO**  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
"Come on, let's get you checked out."  He led her to the barracks where the other three men were and sat her down on a chair as he checked her responses and treated her for minor scratches.  
  
"Where's Pete?" she suddenly demanded.  
  
"Recovering," answered the Master.  "If you would please... hold _still_ , dammit."  
  
"Not until I see Pete!" she screeched into his ear and he had to wince away from the sound.  "Who're you, anyway?"  
  
"The Master," answered the Master, an exasperated sigh escaping him.  "Otherwise known as Harold Saxon, among other names."  
  
Finally, once she was checked out, he motioned to Jon.  "Stay here.  If anyone else wakes up, come and get me."  The Master ran back to the console room where dust still covered over everything.  "Come on, let's get out of here."  
  
He dematerialized and then rematerialized.  Not far, either, by his calculation.  The TARDIS doors changed to match whatever the outside was now.  He looked at the external sensors, and saw on the screen that it was somehow overlooking the Plas and the destruction.  He winced at the obvious hole by the fountain, but as far as he could see there was no immediate threat outside.  Jon came up beside him.  "Jackie kicked me out," he said sheepishly.  
  
"No point dwelling on it.  The TARDIS won't let her take over, anyway," said the Master as he opened the doors and stepped outside to the false balcony the TARDIS had created.  
  
Looking back he realized his TARDIS had taken the shape of an upper story loft, complete with architecture and emergency escape attachment to the existing system... it merely had added an upper floor but looked as if it had always been there.  "Handy for rent dodging, that," pointed out Jon.  "Posh too.  Can't beat the view... except for that hole in the Plas."  
  
"You know what the Plas is but not other basic slang?" asked the Master, lifting a brow.  
  
"Parents took me here once before we moved.  Then they moved back and I stayed in the US," he answered.  "Damn, were they ever lucky."  
  
The Master's keen eye spotted something else.  Or rather, two other someone else.  "Jon, see those two people over there?  The one that looks a bit like he doesn't belong in this time and the woman with him?" asked the Master, and Jon looked over to them and nodded.  "That's Jack Harkness and Dr. Martha Jones, the other two than Ianto told us about.  Approach them for me and get them to come here.  If I do, we'll have another scene like that when Ianto saw me... only on the street and we don't want that."  
  
"No problem," said Jon as he moved over the the fire escape, taking the offered key to the TARDIS with him.  Then he stopped, his foot just on the rung lower.  "Were you really the British Prime Minister?"  
  
"Guilty as charged," groaned the Master, still holding onto the key.  
  
"You're, uh, going to have to let that go if you want me to go get them, you know," said Jon gently, seeing how difficult it was for the Time Lord to let go and let him have that degree of access.  "I swear to you I know what this means, and I swear to you that this key will never, ever, leave my person, not even under threat of death or even more painful torture."  
  
The Master finally let the key go, and Jon slid it under his shirt on the silver chain.  He turned and went back inside the TARDIS and walked to the medical bay where Ianto was reassuring Pete and Richard, who were now conscious and crowding the tiny bay.  Jackie was just outside.  Pete and the Master regarded each other.  "As I understand it, sir, not only are we in your debt but we are also by some small measure required to report to you."  
  
"Don't," said the Master.  "Not anymore.  That point of my life is long since over.  The only thing you need to report to me is the real progress of your recovery."  
  
"How's Jacks?" asked Pete.  
  
For a moment, he was confused, but heard the screechy woman say from behind him, "He means _me_.  I'm fine, Pete, really I am."  
  
 "Where are Jack and Martha?" asked Pete.  
  
"I sent Jon after them.  They appear to be fine, from what I saw at a distance.  Obviously were outside at the time of the collapse," answered the Master.  
  
"And Gwen?"  
  
"The most seriously injured, in fact she died for a few moments, but revived," answered the Master.  "She will recover but it will take time.  The bed she is in is a type of... cocoon... if you will.  She will sleep until she is out of danger."  
  
"Then we are truly in your debt," said Pete.  "I take it that this is a TARDIS?"  
  
"Yes," answered the Master.  "I am the Master."  
  
"Who?" asked Pete, in confusion.  
  
"The Master is an evil Time Lord.  I don't know the full details, but Martha told me that he shouldn't be trusted.  Although, saving people seems a bit out of character for you if she's right," said Richard.  
  
"You know him, Mickey?" asked Pete, turning to the one that the id had called Richard.  
  
"Yeah, well, Martha does," answered Mickey.  
  
"He is right on that account.  I was, at one point, not one of the 'good guys'," conceded the Master.  "I don't think you can actually count me as one of the good guys still, but, for now, I am here to help... but I at least know my duty and I'll be damned if I ignore that."  
  
Pete appeared to think about this for a moment and then he came to a decision.  "For all your supposed faults that is one point to your favour.  A very big one, if you ask me."  
  
The Master was about to reply when there was a scuffle behind him.  "You bastard, how dare you show your face here!" came Martha's voice, and he turned to face her but was knocked down by a punch to his jaw by the rather beefy fist of Jack Harkness.  
  
"The fact that you saved Ianto, and my team, is the only reason you still draw breath," panted Jack.  
  
The Master stayed on the ground, wiping away a trickle of blood from his mouth and spitting out a now broken tooth.  He rubbed his jaw.  Jack packed a solid punch and now his jaw was extremely sore.  He climbed slowly to his feet in the effort to maintain his dignity and stared straight at Jack.  "Calm down, everyone," ordered Pete.  "It's the Master who rescued everyone in the Hub, let's not forget that."  
  
"There's a possibility he's the one that caused it the bomb, or whatever it was, to explode in the first place," pointed out Martha.  
  
Jack looked over at her.  "Not necessarily true, but a valid point."  
  
"What in the name of the Void is going on?" demanded the Master.  
  
"You're walking around, that's something to your favour," said Jack.  "There's something different about you."  
  
"Every Gallifreyan, every Time Lord, except you turned to crystal yesterday.  Right at noon.  We've been investigating and I guess we got a bit too close.  Someone planted a bomb, or something, and the Hub is now rubble," said Pete.  
  
"Again," chimed in Ianto and Jack, and Ianto finished.  "The last time it was rubble was during the Four-Five-Six incident."  
  
"Right, you'll have to explain that one to me as well," said the Master.  "But continue."  
  
"We suspected that someone was targeting the Time Lords, and just as we were getting an idea of who or what it might be..." said Pete.  
  
" _Blam!_ " motioned Ianto.  "No more Hub, no more evidence.  No more investigation."  
  
"But what happened to the Time Lords?" asked the Master.  "Can I see them?"  
  
"If you really want to, there's one right outside of Ianto's house," said Jackie.  "So weird..."  
  
"Where do you live?" asked the Master as he led them to the console room and away from the resting Gwen.  "Jackie, stay with Peter, will you?  Come running to me if he needs anything... other than the domestic."  
  
"I live not far from the park," answered Ianto.  
  
The Master input the commands into the console and suddenly everything went dark.  "What the hell just happened?" asked Jack.  
  
"It's dead... or frozen.  Like those Time Lords..." murmured the Master and then his eyes widened.  "Of course!  Why didn't I see it before?"  
  
"See what before?" asked Jon.  
  
"We're in a Time Lock."  The Master looked around at the humans in the red emergency lighting of his TARDIS.  "That is why the Time Lords are crystal... and the humans cannot die."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
 **ACT THREE**  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
They ran back to the medical bay after the running Master.  Jack mused that the Time Lord could run.  Finally they made it back there and the medical bay was as dead and dark as the rest of his ship.  "What the bloody hell just happened?" screeched Jackie.  
  
"Ah, long story but we need to move," said the Master as he pulled a now half conscious Gwen out of the healing cocoon.  
  
"If we're in a Time Lock, what does that mean for a Fixed Point?" asked Jack quietly, and when the Master didn't answer, Jack felt his stomach drop.  "What does it mean?"  
  
"I don't know what it means, but what it should mean is that if I were you I would be very, very careful," answered the Master.  
  
"So, now that we've pretty much agreed that the Master didn't blow us up, who did?" asked Pete.  "Is these mysterious others?"  
  
The Master shook his head, and he wasn't surprised as the others failed to answer either.  He had a rather healthy suspicion he did know who was behind all this but at the present moment he had no idea where to find them.  "First things first, we need a safe haven.  This TARDIS, even while it appears dead, will be throwing off a huge temporal signature that can now be found.  And we should find this safe haven now."  The Master saw Jack look over at Gwen and the Master sighed as he adjusted her weight in his arms.  "I've done as much as I can.  It's up to her now.  But we can't stay here."  
  
"She can be moved, Jack," said Martha.  "Nothing is broken."  
  
Pete looked over at the Master.  "I don't suppose you have a vehicle hidden in this thing, do you?"  
  
"How would I get it to the ground?" he asked as they all ran out to the balcony.  
  
"How the hell did we get up here?" asked Mickey.  
  
"TARDIS," answered the Master tersely as he ran to the fire escape.  "Jack, get down to the next level.  I'll pass you Gwen, then we'll relay her down that way."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Hours later Gwen sat huddled up under a quilt on her own couch, nursing a cup of tea as Rhys held her hand.  She had woken up, a bit sore and tired but otherwise worse for wear.  Like the others who had recognized one of their former Prime Ministers, particularly this infamous one, she had been shocked and then somewhat warily accepting when things had been explained to her.  
  
Right now the former Prime Minister in question was pacing in her living room.  
  
He was just finishing up the incredibly long, and full of technical terms that no one but Jack seemed to understand, monologue.  "So... in other words, no one can die.  Then why did you bother healing me?" she asked.  
  
The Master sighed and turned to her.  "Just because people can't die doesn't mean they are left to feel as if they should be dying."  
  
"That's a bit out of character for you," said Jack, looking at him in surprise.  "Since when do you care whether people are in pain or not?"  
  
"It's not as if people are writing fan fiction about me, now is there?" retorted the Master, a bit snidely.  Granted, they had reason to doubt him.  His track record wasn't exactly exemplary.  But he had a duty.  It was nothing to set aside.  Even with the drums he had recognized that.  "Reality check, man!"  
  
"Perish the thought anyone write about you," said Jackie with a snort.  
  
Jon watched the interchange with mild amusement and then said, "So... where is the Doctor?  Is she also crystal?"  
  
"That's a fantastic question, Jon," admitted the Master, trying not to admit the young man was rapidly growing on him.  
  
A quiet, uncertain, question from Martha brought a sudden deafening silence to the room.  "Doctor who?" asked Martha.  
  
Jack, the Master and Jon all turned to Martha in surprise.  Jack looked over to Mickey in askance, but also saw the same confusion on his face.  "Oh, come off it, you two.  The Doctor... travels in a TARDIS... looks like a blue police box."  
  
The Master had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as not only Martha didn't seem to remember the Doctor, but no one else did either but Jack Harkness.  "Sorry, love, who is that?"  
  
"They, Jackie, they.  There were two of them.  One was a man... the grandfather.  He passed away and the other is a woman.  Sometimes goes by 'Susan'," said Jack, but Jackie shook her head, so he looked over at Mickey.  "Remember Cardiff?  Blon?  The Rift nearly being ripped open?"  
  
Mickey shook his head.  "Sorry, man, no idea."  
  
The Master turned on Martha.  "You!  What happened on the Valiant?"  
  
Martha blinked in surprise.  "We managed to take control of the Valiant by appealing to the very scared, but brave, UNIT soldiers on board.  We attacked and took control of the control room and cornered you, and we were conveying you to prison where you would await justice when Lucy went crazy and shot you, but you still got away and we never found out what happened... until now.  Jack destroyed the paradox machine and everything snapped back to the way it was before the Year."  
  
"What about the Doctor telling you to travel the world?" asked the Master.  
  
"I got away, and I travelled the world, but I don't know who you're talking about."  
  
Jack turned back to Mickey and sat down by him.  "Mickey, tell me you remember Rose."  
  
"Of course I remember Rose!"  
  
"What happened to her?" asked Jack.  
  
It was Jackie who answered.  "Oh, she went travelling. Took a sabbatical, she did.  Smartest thing she could have done."  
  
"Where is she now?" asked Jon.  
  
"Dunno, went travelling again."  Jackie shrugged.  "She came back for awhile when all this business with the Time Lords started, but left again when it calmed down.  Don't know who this Doctor bloke is.  Did her travelling have somethin' to do with him?"  
  
"Yes!" answered the Master and Jack simultaneously, and then the Master asked.  "Can none of you remember either of them?  At all?"  
  
No one did.  Jon leaned over to the Master.  "What does this mean?" he asked, a bit frantically.  
  
"The Doctor doesn't exist."  The Master breathed.  "It's as if he, and she, never existed."  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
 **ACT FOUR**  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
The three who did remember the Doctor moved aside, although Jack couldn't help but warily eye the others.  It was as if everyone he knew suddenly were strangers.  While he couldn't believe the other half of things -- such as teaming up with the Master -- he recognized that in cases of extreme need made for strange bedfellows... and at least the Time Lord was reasonably easy on the eyes.  
  
"The first order of business is resolving this paradox," said the Master with absolutely no preamble.  "Now.  Before it gets any worse."  
  
He had a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that the damage was already done.  No point in dwelling on it.  The only thing to do now was figure it out, fix it and then track down House Paradox.  He sat down quickly, and Jack watched him as the Master put his head in his hands as if trying to get a handle on the despair that was eating the three of them alive.  
  
"Why can we three remember her and not everyone else?" asked Jon.  
  
"Well, the obvious first answer for the Master is because he's a Time Lord," answered Jack.  "He can see all possibilities if he looks so he's intrinsically aware of the changes.  Me... it could be the 'Bad Wolf' effect."  
  
"The what effect?" asked the Master, looking up.  
  
"It's what the original Doctor called my immortality problem," answered Jack.  "Came down to a being called the Bad Wolf and what it did to make me immortal.  It brought life... dusted the Daleks... long story short it was like his TARDIS -- or the heart of -- and Rose Tyler melded into one being... what?"  
  
"A human did what?" asked the Master in horror.  "And it didn't kill her immediately?"  
  
"Don't ask me on the details!  That's something you'd have to ask him... if you could," Jack frowned and the three of them went silent again.  "Dammit, there are times I really, truly, miss that man."  
  
"You're telling me," murmured the Master and he caught Jack's strange look his way.  "What?"  
  
"You didn't want him dead?"  
  
"By far not," snorted the Master derisively.  "Even in my most possessed and insane, there was that desire to see him live.  Tormented maybe.  Rassilon hated the House that the Doctor was born from and saw the Doctor as a direct threat.  He wanted him dead... and permanently.  And if he couldn't have him killed he wanted him controlled.  He hated the fact that he couldn't so he went after the man's family and friends... merely starting with me.  Still didn't have the desired effect.  While I wasn't in control I could sense Rassilon's fear that somehow the Doctor could stop the crazy bastard and I hoped he would, even if it meant..."  
  
"... Meant what?" came from Jon.  
  
"I desired life, more than anything and I'll admit I did some stupid things in my time to keep it... accepting Rassilon's offer only one thing... but if it meant my permanent death for Rassilon's defeat I would have gladly walked straight into hell."  The Master didn't mention that he actually had done so... right after the drums had been dispelled.  Rage at Rassilon overriding his common sense didn't count though.  "But the Doctor dead?  No.  When the new Doctor told me he was dead I was... well... I was a bit beside myself.  Still find that like a gaping hole right where my right heart is."  
  
"You loved him!" exclaimed Jack in surprise.  "Like I love Ianto!"  
  
There was a sudden cessation of all activity in the living room as everyone turned to stare and the Master felt his ears redden.  "Go back to what you were doing!" he exclaimed before he turned on Jack.  "I did, but not like that.  He was more like a brother.  A pain in the ass one at that that always seemed to somehow get all the attention... no matter what we did."  
  
"We?" asked Jon.  
  
"The Doctor had an older brother... one that was already out of the Academy and living the usual adult life for a Time Lord... when the Doctor and I were born.  It was like having this stranger, like an uncle, more than a brother so the Doctor was often fostered to my father's house because Autumn was, by then, a single mother and their House was less prominent that it had been before his father took off and shamed their House," answered the Master.  "We grew up together as there was an arrangement worked out, thanks to Braxiatel, in order for the Doctor to get a fair start in life and fair consideration for the Time Lord Academy... otherwise he would have never been accepted thanks to Ulysses.  Little did we know the apple does not far that far from the tree... well... for awhile.  He was reasonably excused considering he didn't leave until his youngest grandchildren were nearly grown and he had become a widower that was otherwise unattached anyway."  
  
"I didn't know that," said Jack a bit sadly.  "I knew something weighed on his soul, but up until I worked for Torchwood I had assumed it was the Time War... but then I saw pictures of him of before the Time War and while he would sometimes be smiling there was always something about his eyes.  It was like..."  
  
"After Patience died he was never the same," answered the Master.  "Theirs was a love, and union, that many on Gallifrey were jealous about.  She chose him and given her lineage it was a prestigious marriage arrangement that brought the former glory back to his House.  The fact that they were madly in love with other was... very rare among Time Lords particularly for their first marriage which is almost always arranged for maintaining bloodlines and to move your House up the prominence line.  Second marriages are usually less bound on bloodline... and more on personal reasons like love.  Mind you, they end with divorce just as often, so it was not unusual to see third, fourth and so on... or even co-habitation rights."  
  
"One last question on Gallifrey, and then we'll move back to the subject on hand... how many first marriages ended with divorce?" asked Jack.  
  
"None.  Those were term marriages with the option of renewal, if they mutually agreed that they both would like to remarry," said the Master.  "Patience, in that way, was both the Doctor's first, but also only wife... as far as I know.  They chose to renew their vows at the end of the agreed upon term, and it was a beautiful, happy marriage."  
  
"What was she like?" asked Jon.  
  
"Well, I didn't get along with her that well the greatest but she was very gracious about it," chuckled the Master.  "She was proper, of an old family.  She didn't look it but she was one of the oldest Time Lords on Gallifrey.  Rumour had it she married the Other, which was one of the three first Time Lords... the other two being Omega and Rassilon so that should give you an idea.... and she chose the Doctor.  Never did say why... anyway... this has little to do with the problem of why we remember the Doctor and no one else does.  Now, Jon, is the conundrum.  If I remember because I am a Time Lord and you remember because of Bad Wolf, why does Jon remember?"  
  
"Because if not for the Doctor I'd probably never been born, so... I am a paradox," answered Jon.  "If not for Susan, my parents would never have followed her to that junkyard, would never have pushed their way onto the TARDIS.  Would never have shared their lives.  They weren't that close, just work acquaintances, before."  
  
The Master looked up in surprise.  "For the second time today I see why the Doctor kept humans around.  You can be surprisingly brilliant for all the fact you're also often a bunch of stupid apes."  
  
"Still doesn't find the Doctor, and it's plain that we need to to resolve this," said Jon.  
  
Jack was barely holding in his laughter at the Master's stupid ape comment.  His first Doctor had been fond of that particular scrape but he grew serious.  "Things are always seriously out of whack when we have to go running to save the Doctor.  I could have sworn that about this point in our travels with her she went missing too."  
  
"Not my fault if the producers have no imagination," quipped the Master, catching onto the joke with just the hint of a grin.  "More like she's just extraordinarily jeopardy friendly."  
  
"You know, Rose used to be called that by someone... I just can't seem to recall who," he said as he walked in on the last bit.  
  
The Master caught the fact that Mickey could almost just remember.  "It feels like the ghost of a memory, doesn't it?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah... like the dream of a memory in a dream," said Mickey.  "Like I should remember but I just can't, and it doesn't make any sense."  
  
"Who you're thinking of is the Doctor," answered Jack.  "The Doctor used to call Rose Tyler jeopardy friendly all the time, Mickey."  
  
"Bloke in leather."  Mickey's gaze went distant.  "I remember... I can't remember..."  
  
"The paradox isn't perfect," said the Master, a note of relief in his voice.  "That means the Doctor is still alive somewhere.  For the moment."  
  
"Speaking of alive, but not, why are all the Time Lords crystal?" asked Jon.  
  
"If not for the Doctor, they would have never come to Earth... but... because they are as Time Lords to a point intrinsically Time Line change and paradox immune, their natural defence made it so that their shadow is here, even if they are not.  I'd be willing to bet that they move around when we're not looking at them," answered the Master.  "They are within the Paradox, but yet not.  Protected."  
  
"Don't blink," came Martha's voice.  "I can't remember... why can't I remember who said that?  Don't blink... Blink and we're dead... but if we blink with them we're fine unlike the ones made of stone."  
  
The Master turned to Martha in surprise.  "What in the name of the Void are you talking about now?"  
  
"No idea," answered Jack, with a shrug.  "Martha?"  
  
She blinked again and said, "I'm sorry, I can't remember either."  
  
"Um, guys... speaking of blinking... where the hell did that come from?" came Gwen's voice from the garden.  They all ran to the door and looked out.  
  
In the garden behind Gwen and Rhys' home was the crystal statue of a Police Public Call Box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be concluded in Chapter 13: House Paradox (Part Two)
> 
> After that, the "season's" story arc will have resolved itself and it's only specials which will be sporadic and probably holiday based.


	14. Chapter Thirteen - House Paradox (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master and the active Companions of the Doctor, plus the Doctor herself, race to save Time from the evil renegade House Paradox and solve Miracle Day. But what, or who, is at stake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, I am so, so sorry for leaving this so long. I did not mean to disappear like that.
> 
> Well, better late than never... I give you the conclusion of our tale!

“The paradox isn't perfect,” said the Master, a note of relief in his voice. “That means the Doctor is still alive somewhere. For the moment.”

“Speaking of alive, but not, why are all the Time Lords crystal?” asked Jon.

“If not for the Doctor, they would have never come to Earth... but... because they are as Time Lords to a point intrinsically Time Line change and paradox immune, their natural defence made it so that their shadow is here, even if they are not. I'd be willing to bet that they move around when we're not looking at them,” answered the Master. “They are within the Paradox, but yet not. Protected.”

“Don't blink,” came Martha's voice. “I can't remember... why can't I remember who said that? Don't blink... Blink and we're dead... but if we blink with them we're fine unlike the ones made of stone.”

The Master turned to Martha in surprise. “What in the name of the Void are you talking about now?”

“No idea,” answered Jack, with a shrug. “Martha?”

She blinked again and said, “I'm sorry, I can't remember either.”

“Um, guys... speaking of blinking... where the hell did that come from?” came Gwen's voice from the garden. They all ran to the door and looked out.

In the garden behind Gwen and Rhys' home was the crystal statue of a Police Public Call Box. 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

**ACT FIVE**

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

The Master blinked once, and then twice in surprise. “That belongs to the Doctor,” he explained to those in his little troupe that did not remember who the other Time Lord was anymore. “It wasn't there before, I take it.”

Rhys shook his head. “No, it wasn't.”

They all followed the Master out into the back garden of Rhys and Gwen's townhouse. The Master circled the crystal TARDIS once, and then twice. “She's trying to make it into the Time Lock.”

“Who is?” asked Rhys.

“The Doctor,” he answered as he reached out to touch the crystal, but hesitated.

There was a strong possibility that this could go one of two ways. The first was far more preferable as it meant his connection within the Time Lock gave the Doctor, and her TARDIS, enough of a link to break into the Time Lock which would then mean the two of them could figure this out. Afterwards he could go back to what he had intended to do. He didn't really know what he intended to do after this was over, but he was sure he would figure it out. The second possibility was far less attractive although it would result in his freedom — the link created would pull him out of the Time Lock and then both he and the Doctor would be outside of the Time Lock and he would be free, but the issue of the Time Lock would then be far more difficult to fix.

A part of him — the part that Jack and Martha were far more familiar with — strongly wanted the latter. The proper Time Lord that the Master had been trained to be may not have wanted the former but knew he must fix this as it was his duty as a Time Lord.

“If I turn crystal, I thoroughly apologize for my failure,” said the Master as he turned to Martha.

The Master touched the TARDIS and for a long moment could not open his eyes for the bright flare that nearly burnt his retinas. Thankfully Gallifreyan eyes were far tougher than human eyes due to the dual suns of Gallifrey, and made even tougher by the conditioning that all Time Lords endured to become what they were.

The humans also had to look away or risk being blinded, but the flash only lasted milliseconds. When it faded as abruptly as it had appeared, the Master still stood there, hand on the side of the now blue wooden TARDIS. He blinked and turned around, a small smile on his face, secretly pleased that it had worked out the way it had. “And now, for the Doctor,” he said, with a chuckle. “I am sure you will be relieved to be free of me and to have her back.”

The Master was not expecting the confusion on their faces. He motioned grandiosely at the TARDIS. “Oh come on, it's the bloody TARDIS, which all of you... at one time or another... has travelled on. Usually with a crazier Time Lord than myself, if more benign.” Some would argue that point but the Master wasn't in the mood to debate semantics — not when the Doctor's Companions were still acting as if the oh so familiar form of the blue 1960's era British Police Public Call Box, once common on the streets of London but now not. “Depending on his, or her, incarnation... some of you travelled with more than one version... is nothing of this familiar at all?”

Finally Jack Harkness and Jon Chesterton both held up their hands. “Yes, thank you!” exclaimed the Master, and then he turned back to the doors. “Strange... she's usually out here by now.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Jack.

The Master pushed on one of the doors and was surprised, and more than a little alarmed, when it swung open unimpeded. “That's... not good.”

Bloody Hell, was he supposed to be the Void-forsaken hero in this little misadventure? The thought made him uneasy, and more than a little queasy, if he were honest with himself. There was nothing to be gained personally if he helped them and yet, much to his dismay, he was in the rather dubious position of having to do without the Doctor as a foil. “This is not my strong suit,” muttered the Master. “Please be here... no, seriously... please be in here. This is your damn 'thing', not mine...”

He walked into the TARDIS with more confidence than he really felt. It was dark, and even more alarming was the fact that it was a console room he knew. He had stolen this particular TARDIS. Had wired it into the Valiant and made it into a Paradox Machine and pulled the Toclofane out of the future and into modern Earth with this machine. It was not as he last remembered it — not the repaired console of the most recent Doctor. This was a past Doctor... and the Doctor was no where in sight. The others had followed him in and Jack was looking around, his gaze darkening. With a gasp, Martha suddenly exclaimed, “I... I remember now! The Doctor... this belongs to the Doctor.” She stopped then, as if another thought crossed her mind and her tone turned into confusion. “Why does it look like this again?”

“I don't know,” answered the Master quietly.

“ _Have a fantastic life_...”

Everyone jumped in shock, and it was Jack who laughed hollowly at the ghostly apparition of a past Doctor. “A bloody hologram.”

“I remember him...” said Mickey. “That was the first Doctor I met... yeah, old grumpy himself.”

The Master looked at the Doctor. He had never met this version the Doctor and by the look of him it would have been one he could have respected. Not that he didn't respect any incarnation of the Doctor — to not respect him was dangerous — but this one, with close cropped hair, and the simplest clothes he had ever seen on the man, screamed 'back off'. He had a distinctive Northern accent, and the Master recognized the look of a man fresh from a huge war. This version had come immediately after the Doctor's Eighth incarnation — the leather jacket was actually the biggest giveaway as it was the same jacket as Eight had started to wear near the beginning of the Time War when the genteel nature of the Edwardian gentleman no longer suited. It had also been around the time that the Doctor had cut his long hair — while not quite so short as Nine's — the shock of seeing the gentle, soft spoken Eight move into a far more direct and harsher man had been enough to tell the Master than the Time War was serious. This Ninth was... a direct result of the war and possibly had been a regeneration specific for it to only survive a war and find himself out of place... and very, very alone in the universe.

The Master moved over to the console to turn off the hologram when the recording restarted itself.

“ _Emergency program one... if you're seein' this, then_...”

“Oh my God,” breathed Mickey. “This is that time when he sent Rose back to Earth without him... right before he regenerated that Christmas into the one that liked pinstripes.”

The Master hit a button and turned it off, but hologram only flickered and then, much to his unsurprise, the image changed to one he was familiar with.

Ironic that he had just been thinking of him, too.

It was the Eighth, but not right after his regeneration in San Francisco. Later — possibly right before the War started or possibly after. The jacket was quite obviously the same one. The Master found that his mouth was dry but also noticed the hologram was staring right at him... not at a camera or into some undefined distance. “So, old friend, you find yourself here and your intent isn't to kill me or some other nefarious purpose I would otherwise not approve of. If that is the case, and you're seeing this, that can only mean one thing. I'm dead or otherwise incapacitated, and you're not — and for some reason you've seen fit to step into my shoes. I won't ask why or what happened... not that I'm around to hear it anyway. I can guess. Either way, for what it's worth, thank you. Because, quite frankly, if you're here and I'm... not... then what's needed is how you think and do things. Horrible thought, that. The circumstances must be dire indeed.”

“You have no idea,” interjected Jack.

The hologram continued as if there was no interruption. It was, after all, only a recording. “In that case, the TARDIS is choosing to cooperate with you. If I'm merely incapacitated, then when I am capable again we can talk. If I'm dead... then I suppose it falls to you to get this back to Gallifrey or make sure she doesn't fall into enemy hands—or, if you're so inclined, finish what I started. Good luck, old friend.”

The holographic recording ended with a flicker, but the holographic Doctor didn't disappear. “So, now what?” asked Martha.

“Redefine search parameters,” intoned the hologram.

“Are you kidding me?!” exclaimed Mickey. “There was a holographic avatar... an interface... this entire time and he never, ever used it?”

“It's not just an interface—it's the avatar the TARDIS herself has chosen to interact with us with,” answered the Master. “Interesting choice, I would have thought something more... you... than this.”

The image wavered and then a woman appeared. Unlike the holograms she was aware of her surroundings. There was no definite face, but the mere suggestion of a female form as if her ghostly image was of coral and glass. Her face was far better sculpted and detailed, if the same surface appearance. “I thought he would be more welcome than I.”

“I think we prefer the truth, Compassion,” answered the Master.

Her appearance shimmered and a dark haired woman appeared in a loose fitting tunic, although she was still barefoot. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Compassion, the intelligence behind what the TARDIS is.”

“An AI?” asked Gwen, warily.

Compassion snorted. “Hardly—I was once as you are. I became the TARDIS and the TARDIS became me out of necessity when the original TARDIS was killed.”

“I'm not following,” said Jack.

“The original TARDIS's intelligence was killed,” answered the Master. “I don't know, so do don't even ask. Anyway, a TARDIS is a living machine — a... hybrid between a grown machine and a grown intelligence.”

“Are you telling what I think you're telling me,” asked Mickey. “That once a TARDIS... the shell... is grown that you hard wire someone into it?! What if she changed her mind?” He looked at the avatar of Compassion. “Can you change your mind?”

“Alas, once I became the TARDIS I could not. The changes in my mind that enables me to be the TARDIS would never — could never — live within a normal being constrained to one time and one location,” she answered. “And even if I could the changes to my body to become the TARDIS meant that I could never walk the surface again... as the TARDIS is now my body. My human shell — as I was once a human woman — died the minute I became the TARDIS's new controlling intelligence. I am dead... but I am also very much alive.”

There was an overriding silence and then everyone turned to stare at the Master, who only sighed. “All Time Lords know the price of making a TARDIS. It is not something he would not have known, no. And can you blame him for not telling you? Even now I can sense your horror at the real cost of being able to travel time and space. You are thinking it is not worth the cost of someone's very life to enable the TARDIS to travel... to enable any of the other TARDISes to travel. Compassion, what is your view on the matter?”

“When I realized what was needed so that the Doctor and I could escape the trap that had been made, and what had been done to the original TARDIS intelligence... and what would be needed to get us off of that planet I was... at first... horrified. The Doctor refused to allow me to do this for him. But as the situation grew desperate, he had no choice but to proceed with the Binding. He killed me, his Companion, so that we both might live. I died, yes, but I live forever.”

“You were his Companion?!” exclaimed Mickey in horror. “Like Rose, like me... like everyone else?”

“I was — and I am still. I am now eternal.”

There was a long silence in the console room. “Enough of this,” said the Master. “We have other issues to discuss, such as where is the Doctor and why are we seeing this console room?”

“The Doctor has been removed from Time itself, and therefore all that has been done by him is now Paradox. Earth is now in Null Time and under the control of House Paradox.”

“That I was afraid of—”

“—It's far worse that just that, Koschei,” continued Compassion. “The problem now exists that House Paradox attempts to re-create the Schism, and therefore remake the Time Lords in their image. Time itself is unravelling around us. The Time Locks are serving as mere band aids, but, ironically, we have very limited time to fix what has been damaged.”

“How do we do that?” asked Rhys.

“We find, and bring back the Doctor, to where he must exist again,” she answered.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Jack. “You said 'he', which means you're talking about Arkytior but the original...”

“Yes, I do mean Theta himself.”

“So, that's his name,” mused Martha.

“In part,” said the Master. “Not his full by far. His full name you'd find too difficult to pronounce on a daily basis. Same with mine or any other Time Lord's full name. Which was the only reason he never used it.”

“Like Autumn,” suggested Ianto.

The Master nodded. “That mean we're all going to run across the proper Doctor?” asked Jon. “The one my parents knew?”

“We're going to have to,” said the Master, walking back to the TARDIS doors. “Because that's the only way we're going to bring our Doctor back. No Theta means no Arkytior either, as she is his granddaughter.”

He pulled open the doors to find himself face to face with a group of suited men. “Harold Saxon, you are under arrest for the murder of President Winter.”

_Well shit_ , he mused. _So much for keeping a low profile_. “Funny how you found me so quickly. I'd almost think someone was watching for me.”

“Come with us, sir. Only your standing as the former Prime Minister is making this so easy.”

The Master pulled the doors shut before any of the suited men could enter it, leaving the former Companions of the Doctor in the TARDIS.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

**ACT SIX**

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Waking was slow — far slower than it should have been. The Doctor blinked herself awake and sat up in the bed. For a long moment she froze, unsure of what her own eyes were telling her. “Where the hell am I?” she exclaimed as she rolled out of the bed, her legs still wobbly.

She heard someone running outside of her door and the doors opened quickly, another woman helping her back into the bed. “Lady Larna, you shouldn't be out of bed yet. Lord Teris said that you had taken a terrible fall.”

“Where the hell am I?” she asked again.

“Where else would you be?” asked the young woman in confusion. “The estate off the plains of Serenity — near Mount Lung.”

“Gallifrey... I'm on Gallifrey?! When is this? What did you just call me?” she exclaimed. “My name is Arkytior, not Larna... Arkytior e'Fanyarenosse e'Prydon.”

There was a hiss near her ear and she saw another person who had snuck up behind her now retreating. In their hand was a dermal injector, now empty. “Catch her when she falls, it should not take long.” He sighed in regret. “Teris had warned me she would be very ill but I was not expecting this level of confusion.”

“Shh, dear, of course you're on Gallifrey... where else would you be?” soothed the woman, presumably a nurse.

The Doctor felt her limbs growing heavy and the joints relaxing into jelly. She leaned against the wall and slid down as her legs failed to support her weight. “What have... what have you done to me?” she accused. “Take me back... take me...”

She slumped over finally and the medical technician sighed in relief as he turned to the other, the woman who had first responded to Larna's returning consciousness. “She's very confused,” he pointed out in concern. “Where else would she be but on Gallifrey? It's not like you can catch the first train and go to another planet... not easily.”

The female medical tech shook her head as they lifted the now limp Time Lady into the bed. “If she is indeed a Time Lord then she could.”

“True enough. I will report this... incident and her confusion to the Kithriarch. She said she was of House Lungbarrow. He would know who she is if she indeed is,” he answered.

 

 * * * * * *

 

The Master knew this was coming. His capture was long overdue and his less than scrupulous life had finally caught up with him.

At first it was MI-5. They were the arresting party—the one's who had seen the report and likely the CCTV footage. His face was known and flagged. In retrospect he could not believe he had been so careless to begin with. Of course they would see him, and even if someone had not known to look computers could be pre-programmed for his reappearance and when he finally did reappear automatically red flag his very whereabouts and then, if the data was available, follow his every move.

Considering his former position as the Prime Minister of Britain he could only expect that it was for his own safety in case of a kidnapping.

How ironic that the very measures put in place for his own protection would then act against him now that he was seen as a dangerous criminal responsible for the murder of the US President.

The Master was quickly herded from the doors of the TARDIS by MI-5 to a car with heavily tinted windows and, under heavy additional escort, taken to another location. He was searched thoroughly and anything of real use, or suspected use, was taken from him and his hands cuffed in front of him for comfort and out of respect of his former position. He then was pushed into the car in between two very large and heavily armed guards. The short limo was comfortable, and kept cool out of respect of his physiology.

“So, I take it I'm being taken to MI-5 headquarters?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” answered the man that was in the lead.

“Perhaps?” asked the Master.

“Sir, that is all I have clearance to tell you.”

The rest of the trip was in silence, which he found dreadfully boring particularly considering that with the two brutes on either side of him he could not see outside at all. There was not even a moon roof to look up and out of. He realized that he could disappear very easily at their hands and no one would be the wiser. Then again, no one would likely really mourn his loss either. Finally they pulled into an underground garage and there he was shoved out of the car. Two beefy hands held his shoulders securely and a large calibre hand gun of some sort that he could not identify by feel of the barrel alone was not so subtle in its presence against his ribs on his left side. “This is the one alien not made of crystal?” came a distinctly American accented voice as a short, stocky but not pudgy or fat man, walked into his line of sight.

“Yes Mr. Delaware,” answered the third member of MI-5. “The one that we have footage murdering your President Winters, I believe. Funny how he's both still alive and not crystal.”

“A mystery I'm pondering as well,” said the Master. “In fact, I have a few theories and... believe it or not... I'm actually trying to get to the bottom of this myself. As the only active Time Lord I must throw in my authority here... and as the former Prime Minister of Britain I believe I have some rights you're forgetting about.”

“He seems far less manic than before,” pointed out Delaware.

“Amazing what happens when you're no longer psychically possessed by an older and eviller alien bent on general destruction in the name of enlightenment—”

The third member of MI-5, and the leader by all appearances backhanded him. The Master found himself on his knees and more than a little dazed. As his head cleared he knew one thing — no human should have been able to do _that_ so easily. The unnamed MI-5 agent was another Gallifreyan. Had to be. 

No wonder they had found him so easily.

“As a gesture of co-operation MI-5 feels that handing over Mr. Saxon to the CIA.” _Oh, this can't be good_ , mused the Master. “Is an even trade for future co-operation—particularly considering his history with your country. I believe the CIA has been wanting an opportunity for vengeance for his crimes for quite some time?”

“Yes, quite,” agreed Delaware, whom the Master had a sinking feeling was CIA, who then turned his attention to the Master. “Now, what to do about you...”

The Master would have had a quip except there was a sharp sting to the back of his neck. The hands let him go but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He fell forward, barely able to catch himself with his arms as his knelt, his head bowed. He tried to speak, shout, even lift his head or arms but they were like lead and he couldn't find the coordination. _Drugged... I've been drugged_... he realized dazedly as his vision tunnelled and clouded over.

He felt his body falling as his arms gave out and then there was nothing.

 

 * * * * * *

 

The rest of the Companions watched in shock as the Master was dragged away by the men in the suits. Thankfully, he had pulled the doors shut and Compassion had firmly locked them and then powered down into a silent mode to avoid their attention. The external monitors still allowed them the ability to listen and watch, however.

Which Jack and Mickey did.

There was a short discussion on the nature of the form of the box — hardly unexpected as most people who actually saw the TARDIS exterior didn't know what to make of it and they were no exception. Finally a discussion on the whether it was a threat, which it was then decided it was not — the lack of power to sense had everything to do with that — and then they left. “So, now what?” asked Gwen. “This Master fellow is gone.”

“House Paradox is moving faster than anticipated to counter his moves but they will not have expected that he managed to get all of you together,” came Compassion's voice.

“On that, who — or what — is House Paradox?” asked Martha.

“What do you know of Gallifreyan and Time Lord culture and familial relations?” asked Compassion.

“Next to nothing, but always was curious,” answered Pete.

“Yeah, would have been good to know _before_ the Valeyard... and Rose,” added Jackie.

“Ah good, your memories have been restored. This makes things much easier.” The hologram of the TARDIS avatar disappeared and the roundels flared momentarily before a wall of images that surrounded them came up. “Turn your attention to the screens.”

The inky darkness resolved itself and it was like they, and the console room, was now in a large interior garden of an alien estate. “This is House Lungbarrow, as translated from Gallifreyan to English.” The peaceful scene ended to one of fighting and death. “What you see is the rebellion of some members of that House who believed their own family policy to be in error and sought to replace the Kithriarch with their own. They attempted a coup...” The scene changed to one of Gallifreyans in red and white uniforms fighting against those in black and cobbled together outfits, but the garden was the same. “... but they were repelled by the loyal guards of that Kithriarch.”

The next scene was of a tall, regal man in red and orange robes watching over a wall as the rebels scattered. Except for one. “Mark my words, Antel, we'll be back!”

“For what purpose? You have what you wanted — your independence from this House.”

“In exile?” the other man laughed bitterly. “No, brother, what we wanted was for this House to know its true purpose — for all Time Lords to know their true purpose. One you and all the others deny yourselves.”

“You seek to destroy the Weave, to pervert it for your own power out of some misbegotten sense of self-righteousness.” The robed Time Lord, Antel, waved off the other man. “Folly, Teris. Utter folly that will destroy you in the end and possibly all of us if I had allowed it to continue.”

“We will see — and you will see when Grandfather Paradox awakes.”

“A non-existent God for your mistakes now, Teris?” Antel seemed honestly grieved by this. “Teris... Teris... where did we go wrong in your training?”

The other man only turned and walked out of the House and out into the wastelands beyond the forests.

The roundels faded back into their familiar shape. “Teris was a Time Lord. He was the founder of House Paradox, a House that was an offshoot of House Lungbarrow much to the latter's shame, and politically the members of House Lungbarrow paid for it for a very long time,” explained Compassion. “House Paradox believes that if they awaken their Grandfather Paradox they will be rewarded — and the true power of the Time Lords will be revealed. It is a similar insanity to that of Rassilon's final folly in seeking to attain the Enlightenment of the mind through destroying everything in the universe and so not having corporeal form.”

“Wasn't that the founder of the Time Lords?” asked Martha.

“Yes. Thankfully the Doctor, as you remember him, stopped him. With the Master's help... it was ultimately how the Master was freed from the drums and Rassilon's control.”

“Obviously we missed something here,” pointed out Jack. “An adventure where no one was invited, I take it?”

“Quite,” answered Compassion. “It also led to the Tenth Doctor's regeneration into Eleven.”

“That's when he... appeared to all of us... wasn't it?” asked Mickey. “He was dying.”

“Yes.”

“Puts a whole new spin on that,” said Martha. “So... House Paradox's version of insanity?”

“The belief that if they manage to cause and maintain a paradox so large, so encompassing, and yet not destroy all living things in the universe that it will awaken their God, the Grandfather Paradox,” answered Compassion. “The problem is that the Doctor figured out, or at least I believe he did, who Grandfather Paradox supposedly was and would be again if House Paradox every succeeded.”

“Who?” asked Jon.

“The Other — a Time Lord but also one of Rassilon's contemporaries.”

“You mean the very Other who overthrew Rassilon?” asked Jack, shocked, and there was a nod from the avatar. “Fantastic.”

“Okay, this needs explaining,” said Jon.

“Okay, quick explanation — three Gallifreyans made the Time Lords what they are today. They were the original three, if you will,” explained Jack. “Omega, Rassilon and the Other. Omega discovered time travel, but the first trip — and its discovery — killed him, only it didn't, but that isn't important right now as I understand from the Doctor that situation had been sorted while he was in his Fifth incarnation so it's old news.”

The rest of them listened. “Rassilon fits into this how?” asked Jon.

“Rassilon and the Other took the data from what was left of Omega's ship. The Other modified the next generation of ships into what would become the TARDIS series. Rassilon gene spliced and modified key strands of Gallifreyan DNA and RNA into a third strand, which — all other terms lacking — we'll call TNA for now. It is that third strand that prevents what happened to Omega from happening again, but it also had other interesting effects such as making the Time Lords what they are instead of regular Gallifreyans,” answered Jack. “Or so the Doctor explained to me.”

“Which is why a Time Lord has a triple helix instead of a double helix,” deduced Martha.

“Precisely,” said Jack, with a shrug. “The specifics are over my head, though. The generalities are scary.”

“So, back to this Time Lord myth...” prompted Pete.

“House Paradox seeks to bring back the Other as their Grandfather Paradox by causing a large enough, and stable enough, paradox to reach back and change who and what the Other is intrinsically so that he becomes their Grandfather Paradox,” explained Compassion. “How they plan to achieve this... I cannot say but I get the feeling that Earth and the Time Lords as they are now have something to do with it.”

“And the Doctor,” pointed out Jackie.

“I had not thought to connect him with this but there is that possibility considering he was born of House Lungbarrow,” answered Compassion. “As was the Other. A modern contemporary and his ancestor, perhaps?”

“Does this mean we're dealing with Theta instead of Arkytior?” asked Jack.

“I suspect so, considering which TARDIS you stand in. I am aware of what will come in their time lines but I am the TARDIS intelligence of this now—this Doctor.”

“So, look for a Time Lord in pinstripes?” asked Jackie.

“No.”

“Don't tell me...” breathed Mickey. “Big ears himself.”

“Yes—you are looking for the Ninth Doctor. Or, rather, a newly regenerated Ninth as he was stolen from me moments from his regeneration from Eight to Nine,” answered Compassion. “He will not have met any of you yet and therefore the threat of a Paradox on another Paradox is very, very high.”

“So where is Susan—the other Doctor?” asked Jack.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

**ACT SEVEN**

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

The Master woke with a rather unsettling sense of knowing time had passed but not exactly how much time had passed. The latter was not usual for a Time Lord and was what made him so uneasy. He blinked furiously and then realized that the reason he couldn't see anything was the hood over his head preventing his ability to see.

Unlike MI-5 — whose sense of respect for his former position in their government — the CIA had no such compunctions. He was tied and cuffed securely, hands behind his back and he could feel ankle cuffs preventing the ability to run if he were to stand. He lay there, on his side, his head resting against either a cement or stone floor, simply breathing and trying to get a sense of where he was and how long he had been out. The hood was stifling but made of a fabric that was fine, and thankfully it allowed him to breathe easily. At least it wasn't canvass or burlap which would have been rough.

The Master felt around and realized, without much surprise, that his hands were also secured to the ankle chains, and likely to the very wall or floor. The metal wasn't the typical steel either but some sort of alloy. He had no doubt they had heard or had researched the strengths and abilities of a Gallifreyan Time Lord and had planned accordingly. He would not give them the satisfaction of begging to be released or even wonder if anyone was there.

It didn't take long for them to come for him. The door was pushed open with enough force that it swung around and the metal clang of it impacted with a cement wall. 

Modern prison of some sort then — probably military. A base maybe.

“Get him up,” ordered a woman's voice.

He was hauled to his feet and the bag was ripped from his head. Gallifreyan eyes were just as sensitive as a humans to sudden changes in darkness and light, so the Master found himself blinking furiously to adjust.

The woman was a blonde, and would have been pretty if not for the severe ponytail and deep frown lines. It was like she never smiled. However, she was no human... but a Gallifreyan like he was. “What's your name?” he asked.

“None of your business,” she answered. “All you need to know is that I am Family.”

“Which family?”

“None of your business.”

“That all you can say?” he asked, and he was fully expecting the slap when it came. It snapped his head back and to the side anyway and he found himself tasting blood from his now cut lip. “Touchy.”

“I require information.”

“Without giving me any? Hardly fair... and I could help you with this little endeavour of yours,” pointed out the Master. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Doctor, you are hardly known for your helpful nature—”

“—I am the Master, not the Doctor,” he answered back, quirking his eyebrow. “Weren't you watching the news a few years back? I'm Harold bloody Saxon, the insane Prime Minister of Britain... I murdered the American President on live TV. You really thing the Doctor would have done so?”

He could see the indecision in their ranks now. The Americans were now keeping their hands close to their sidearms — it was not subtle now — but he had their attention. “You should know that we are CIA... Americans... as you so succinctly put it,” she said drily.

“Oh? You have my condolences,” he replied. “You expect me to believe this treatment was meant for the Doctor. You damn well knew it was me.”

“Perhaps—but it would not be the first time a Time Lord regenerated into a face that strongly resembled another—and certainly not the first time the Doctor has. I am told his Sixth looked much like Commander Maxil,” she answered. “Who am I to say that he did not regenerate into someone a face that looks like Harold Saxon?”

“Weak, very weak.”

“Perhaps—but you are to conduct yourself as if we have caught the Doctor,” she answered. “After all, you were caught coming out of the TARDIS.”

“You want me to pretend to be the Doctor?” exclaimed the Master in shock. “What are you playing at?”

“Need to know,” she answered, and there was a slight upward quirk to her lips as if amused by her own joke.

“I must respectfully decline then. I'd make a very poor Doctor,” he replied. “Although it makes me wonder where the real Doctor is... if she is alive?”

“You mean if he is alive,” she answered coolly. “And the answer is yes. Your cooperation controls how long he lives.”

For a moment the Master was surprised. He, not she. As in the original, true Doctor... not the granddaughter acting in his stead. “Come again?” he asked.

“Did you really think that the Doctor was dead?” she asked, her eyebrow raising. “That his granddaughter was acting in his stead.”

“Funny, yes, that thought had just crossed my mind,” he answered truthfully.

They dragged him out of the cell and through numerous hallway until they stood before one door. “Cooperate with us, or this is your fate,” she said as she threw open the door.

It was then he realized he was not in a prison, or even on a base, but in the deep dark hell of a pit. He walked into the room and stared transfixed at the sight before him. On Gallifrey the Schism had only been a small tear, a surgical cut, in reality and a carefully constructed window allowed sight into the very core of the decaying star held within Gallifrey — the Eye of Harmony — which powered the Matrix and the TARDISes through a vast network. All TARDISes held a mirror image of the massive Eye on Gallifrey.

It was not the only thing it did, however.

Part of the Time Lord initiation—and selection process—was to have a young initiate of the Academy gaze into the Schism, and through it the Eye of Harmony. No two Time Lords ever saw the same thing. The Master had been possessed by Rassilon in his initiation. The Doctor had perhaps nearly had the same happen, but had run away before Rassilon could gain a solid hold on him. It would explain much.

What he stared at now was the Schism expanded to take up the core of Earth. But, while that was horrifying in itself the man chained in an eternal kneeling position, his eyes forced open so that he always gazed into the Schism was a man the Master knew well.

The Doctor—the Sixth incarnation of him and, from the look of his clothing and the wound on his head, near the end of his incarnation.

This was the heart of the Paradox.

So long as the Doctor remained here, now and as he was Gallifrey would never be destroyed. The end of the Time War would never happen. Which meant everything right now, as a result, was Paradox. In the effort to save itself, the Vortex had thrown a Time Lock around Earth and, likely, around Gallifrey so that the universe outside of the here and now would never know what was transpiring here unless the Time Lock was pierced and then the Paradox would spill out into everywhere and every when. “What in the name of Rassilon have you done?!” he shouted over the din of the unleashed Schism.

“Do you really think our true potential was reached when we found Time Travel and called ourselves Time Lords?” asked a man, a Time Lord, if he wasn't mistaken, as he walked along the gantry. “No, my brother we have not. We reached the potential of seeing that pinnacle and then stepped back out of cowardice when we could have been true Lords and Masters of the universe, as is our birthright. But the Council further and further limited us with each passing year, each passing century until the we couldn't pass gas without breaking the Laws of Time.”

“Are you mad?” shouted the Master. “Sure, some of them were more than a little bit constrictive, even stupid, but the core of the Laws of Time prevents the whole of existence from blowing up!”

“This from the Master? The man who caused the Year that Never Was and nearly the largest and most destructive, if beautiful, paradox I had ever see? Bravo, brother, that was sheer genius and inspiring. But I believe mine is an improvement... you see, the Doctor is the catalyst... and I have taken him out of existence. It isn't just the Time War and the destruction of Gallifrey — but everything he has done and seen that is now Paradox!” the other Time Lord exclaimed. “All of existence... paused... as if holding its breath and only we can release it! That is the true potential of a true Lord of Time. And you can be part of this!”

The Master shook his head in denial, finally seeing things from a whole new perspective. Was this what the Doctor had seen in their more recent encounters before his death? If that were the case he was sincerely glad that the drums were now gone and his head was clear. This was insanity. “You're going to destroy everything — _everything_ — just to prove some stupid point in a really, really old argument?” asked the Master. “Who are you to choose this, anyway?”

“Terisyuliterial, formerly of House Lungbarrow... now of House Paradox,” he introduced.

“ _The_ Teris?” The Master was surprised — Teris was one of the original founders of House Paradox. “Should have known you'd be here.”

“The same,” answered Teris, and then he motioned to the captive Doctor. “And this... if you believe it... is the Grandfather Paradox. Renegade and hero, all wrapped up in one. I should have known this sooner, really.”

“Doctor!” screamed the Master and he was rewarded with a tiny little twitch, no more than a tensing in the other Time Lord's shoulders, as a response. “I'm going to get you out of here somehow.”

“I doubt that, but go ahead and give him false hope.” Teris looked up at the blonde woman. “Be a dear and take him back to his cell.”

“Of course, father,” she answered and the Master found himself being dragged out of the room.

 

 * * * * * * *

 

The Doctor gazed out the window onto a planet she had never though she would see again. Of course, she had heard about the Lady Larna and how she had been supposedly connected to her but she never, ever though that she truly was.

But yet here she was sent back into her own home's history and it was an ancient history at that.

At this point in time travel in time had just barely been discovered. Gallifrey was recovering from the war with the Great Vampires and the civil war between the Pythia and Rassilon.

In fact Rassilon himself was in power but if she remembered her history correctly then it would be soon that the Other would overthrow him too, and then simply disappear. Lord Antel came into the room and she bowed to him. “No need for that child,” he said as he waved it off. “I don't like to stand on ceremony.”

In many ways Antel reminded her of her grandfather. He was a quiet, but powerful, man and very comfortable with his place in the universe. He was also rather set in his ways but also strangely willing to listen and learn. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said quietly as she looked out the window. “I never thought...”

“I get the feeling you have been away from Gallifrey a very long time, my dear child,” he said.

And there was the insistence on pointing out the age difference... such as how much senior he was to her. Both in real age and in seniority within the house. “A very long time,” she confirmed.

“Larna, I cannot help but feel that I should know you but I do not. Initial scans say you of this House but there is no record of you,” he said, and she could hear more curiosity than hostility.

“I was born of this House, of two noble parents and a long lineage,” she answered. “But not of this time. I wish I could tell you more but I am from your future and I truly need to return to it.”

“Would your presence be that disruptive?” he asked, and then he saw her answer. “Yes, but also no. You know to not discuss future events with anyone, and even your name is not what you use in the future. It is not yours, but it is now. You could disrupt the time line but at the same time you could not.”

“You are... very correct,” she admitted. “Much as I wish I could stay I cannot... should not... even if being here does not corrupt the time line I am needed back in my time.”

Antel appeared to consider this. “Then we shall have to find a way to send you back to where and when you feel you belong. If simply taking a TARDIS would work, I get the feeling you would have done so.”

“That's just it — I have no idea if a TARDIS would be enough. Perhaps it is that simple, but what if it is not?” she sighed. “Then again, no harm in trying.”

Antel lifted a brow. “I will endeavour to call upon a Time Lord with access to a TARDIS then and we shall try.”

 

 * * * * * * *

 

Weeks passed, then months and they heard no word about the Master, or the Doctor. But life was getting worse. The problem with no one dying was that the support needed to keep the newly living was quickly draining resources. People were tempted to use the crystallized remains of the Time Lords but the problem was they were not remains.

When you looked away — blinked or otherwise failed to pay attention — they moved.

Harriet Jones found that they also tended to cluster around the homes and places of work of Companions and former Companions of the Doctor, but there were a few anomalies to this and she guessed, considering the time travelling nature of the two people in question, that it meant that these would be future Companions or friends that they had not met yet. Unfortunately there was no way to confirm this.

She turned to the statue that had taken to following her. It was of a young man in the typical tunic and loose pant of a Gallifreyan, if not quite a Time Lord. He unsettled her but also she found his near constant presence almost soothing. “I am hoping, young man, that you don't end up being like the Cyberman and Dalek invasion of 2007,” she said to it.

“Ma'am?” asked her human aide.

“Perhaps I'm going crazy, Richard, but sometimes I think he hears me... listens to me,” she said.

“Maybe he does,” answered Richard Smith. “And I keep telling you to call me Mickey.”

“Yes, well, if you don't mind I much prefer the former. It's not as if I don't think highly of you but it would feel strange to resort to short forms,” she answered when he looked a bit put off by her explanation.

“You know who he is?”

“No, can't say I ever met him. Have you?” she asked.

“No, I don't recognize him either but I can't say I've met all the Time Lords and associated Gallifreyans yet,” he pointed out.

“What has the world come to?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

And Mickey couldn't really give her one, so he didn't even really try. In truth he was asking himself the same thing. Since the Miracle, which their small group knew as the Paradox, the world had literally gone to hell. As usual the Americans were leading and expecting the world to follow suit. The problem was that the current Prime Minister was helping the President as much as he could in forming policy. Other countries — powers in their own right — were simply falling into line almost as if relieved to not have to make the tough decisions.

The first thing to happen was the new 'categories', and then the internment of those in those categories into what appeared to be camps. The rumours that those who went into the camps never came out were not far from the truth. So far, in Mickey's investigation, it was absolutely true. Harriet was a very vocal lobbyist against the camps, stating that the now undying needed compassion and care, preferably near their families by professionals or aided by travelling professionals.

Unfortunately, so far, her calls for this were unheeded.

She had then called on Mickey Smith to investigate the camps. This had brought her into contact with Jack and the survivors of the second Torchwood bombing who now were staying at her cottage home in the suburbs of London. It was comfortable lodging for those without at the present moment. Sir Alistair had taken in the rest of the group.

 

 * * * * * *

 

“What we need is to get into one of those camps,” said Jack.

“How the hell do you propose that?” asked Alistair, not even looking up from the paperwork on his desk.

Like the former PM Jones, he also was a vocal dissident to the Categories of Life. Jack paced the width of the older man's office again. “There has to be a way in,” said Pete, and he was then interrupted by insistent knocking on the door. “Who the bloody hell... are you expecting visitors, Alistair?”

“Hardly,” answered Alistair.

Pete looked out the windows. “Jack, we have company. Professionals, too.” Pete then cursed loudly. “Goddammit, what the bloody hell is he doing here?”

“Who?” asked Alistair.

“The fellow is formerly FBI, but now with the CIA — the American version, not the Gallifreyan — and one of the right hands of the current Director,” he answered. “Special Agent Canton Delaware the Third.”

 

 * * * * * *

 

There were times in Canton's life that he had to reflect on the unusual turn of events that would lead to moments just like these. This particular one made him think back to the time he had been called to stand before President Nixon in 1969, which was also the first time he had met a man who wasn't a man by the name of the Doctor.

Now he was being escorted to the private office of Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, former Brigadier General of the London office of UNIT. All new agents were given training on who was who in the international arena, but this man was a legend. Canton finally stepped into the older man's presence and offered him his hand. “Sir, an honour to meet you. My name is Special Agent Canton Delaware the Third.”

Sir Alistair shook his hand. “The honour is mine. Sit down, I imagine we have much to discuss.” Canton did so. “So, what brings you to Britain?”

“The remains of Torchwood Three do,” he answered. “My superiors sent me to gather them up and bring them back to the US.”

“Why?” asked Pete.

“The Agency believes you know how to solve this... that your connection to the Time Lords, and one in particular, will end the Miracle,” answered Canton. “Or at least fix the issue with it. No one can deny that the thought of living forever is attractive, but the problem is that people are not _living_... they are simply _undying_. It's no Miracle — it's torment. We have a joint agency mission to end it and we'd like to fold Torchwood into it.”

“Where is the Master?” asked Jack abruptly.

“Excuse me?” asked Canton in surprise, and Alistair turned to look at Jack, his eyebrows lifted in shock.

“Approximately two days after this began, the Master was kidnapped by MI-5 and taken into custody. Our sources tell me that on that same day you personally saw to the handover of custody when MI-5 handed him over into CIA custody,” said Jack as he leaned towards Canton. “The Miracle is a Paradox... a Time Paradox... something of which requires a Time Lord. The Master is a Time Lord and the only Time Lord that is not crystal. Therefore he is the key to ending this... he'd know how and he was in the middle of figuring it out when you lot stepped in the middle of it!”

“And you trusted him?” asked Benton quietly.

Jack turned to him, and then sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “At first, no. But then it became plain that he was holding to his oath and duty as a Time Lord. I know... shocked me too.”

Canton didn't know what to say. “You mean Harold Saxon?”

“I knew I didn't like that fellow when I saw him,” muttered Benton again, and Alistair silenced him with a look. “So, where is the rat now?”

“A special task force within the CIA spirited him away on some sort of special project. We were told it was need to know — and we had no reason not to believe that — and that he had been made to pay for his crimes,” answered Canton. “In short, I have no idea what has happened to him between then and now, or even where he is.”

“Do you have any way of finding out?” asked Alistair. “Much as I hate to admit it, but Jack has a point. We need a Time Lord and with the Doctor missing the Master is our only option.”

“Wait, since when did you start remembering him?” asked Jack in surprise.

“You assume I forgot in the first place,” answered Alistair, a small smile gracing his face.

 

* * * * * *

 

The Doctor and Antel stood to the side and watched as the Time Lord and her group of five Apprentices piloted through the Vortex. While she outwardly was calm the reality was that she was itching to be more involved.

The older generations of TARDISes absolutely required a full crew and they were not the quickest time ships off the line in comparison to later models. Their interior spaces were also not as roomy or as stable. “Lord Antel,” the Time Lord looked over to them. “We have reached the coordinates you have asked us to come to.”

“Thank you, Geril, on the view screen please.”

The Doctor gasped in shock and Geril looked over to her. “I take it this was not what you were expecting?”

“No, I was most definitely not expecting this,” she said as she gazed down at the Earth... or rather what should have been a pre-historic Earth. 

However, it was naught but a asteroid belt of debris and ruins. Antel laid a hand on her should. “All right Geril, we've seen enough. Take us back to Gallifrey.”

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

**ACT EIGHT**

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Director Allen Shapiro was not a happy man — then again he rarely was when things felt out of his control. His highest ranking aides were in conference with him and he leaned on his desk to look at them. “Where is Canton?” he asked, noticing the empty chair.

“Britain, sir,” answered one of his aides, a rather portly man with a nervous demeanour.

Shapiro didn't judge based on body type as he had known many people of many different shapes and sizes that would have been absolutely brilliant at this. This particular aid was not like those. There was just a certain something off about him. What was it that Lady Autumn had been known to say? Ah yes...

Assistant Director Brian Friedkin creeped him out.

“How do we know this retired UNIT Brigadier will help us?” asked Brian. “As far as I can see every time the CIA approached anything Lethbridge-Stewart considered his territory we were told to back up — and usually not very politely either.”

The other person in this conference was Charlotte Wills, an attractive blonde woman with a rather severe attitude and outlook on life. Shapiro wasn't even sure if he had ever seen her smile. “What's your take on this?” he asked.

“I think bringing in Torchwood and UNIT is a mistake. We already have a sufficient task force that combines all federal agencies, including the Secret Service, as well as MI-5, CSIS and Mossad. We truly do not require another one, particularly a half-baked one that deals with the paranormal. Come on, Allen, they're not playing with a full deck, if you catch my meaning,” she answered. “I'm steps away from a real answer from that surviving alien that MI-5 handed over to us. Let me get the answers from him.”

Shapiro turned to regard her fully. In truth he would prefer to get answers from the Master — personally — but what he wanted answers to had little to do with the Miracle. He had been one of millions to watch in horror as Harold Saxon murdered President Winters on live television. Like millions of Americans he wanted justice. And now the madman was in their 'care'. He nodded to her. “Don't feel as if you need to particularly gentle. Remember to keep it legal, but the bare minimum of humane care for a prisoner.”

Special Agent Wills inclined her head. “I'll keep that in mind.”

 

 * * * * * *

 

The woman that carried the human name of Charlotte Wills walked into the cell where she regarded the far thinner Gallifreyan known as the Master. “You've lost weight, brother. Have you been eating properly?”

“That's a joke, and you know it,” he answered as he rattled the chain that held him to the wall. “Look at me... either I am getting my just desserts or I'm the damsel in distress of this tale. Either way it's a feeling I'd rather avoid. What the hell do you want from me now?”

“Can you not feel the growing power?” She took a breath as she walked to one side of the cell to lean on the wall. “Your friend is slowly dying — the Schism is drawing his energy and future potential out of him. It is only a matter of time before it starts drawing away his past as well — leaving the husk behind. When that happens Grandfather Paradox will complete and we will finally meet him.”

“You keep saying that but you never explain just who the Grandfather Paradox is,” pointed out the Master.

“You will see... and then you will know. You and the rest of the Time Lords will cower before the true Lord of Time,” she answered as she left the cell again.

“Somehow I'm not looking forward to it,” he muttered as he watched her leave.

 

 * * * * * *

 

Charlotte walked into the wash of the Schism, and the power of it staggered her as it always did. The Doctor still was restrained into his eternal position—from this angle it looked as if he was kneeling in meditation or at the feet of some powerful lord. There was truth to both, really. He was far closer to the epicentre than many had been able to stand. The platform had been moved out there and secured by wires. His initial screams when first given over to the Schism had moved even her to tears. The screams had faded to helpless wails of pain, and then eventually stopped as his voice wore itself out and he lost strength. It was then that the changes had washed over him—the influence of the Eye of Harmony—and his future potential had slowly drained from him.

While Charlotte could not see his expression the limpness of his spine and how he sagged against the wires that held him up in his kneeling position told her that soon this incarnation, this body, would give out and die. He would begin to regenerate and in that fiery burn the Schism would swallow his power alive, and begin to take away his past.

Once everything that once had been the Doctor was no more the Grandfather Paradox would be complete... and _he_ would return.

Teris walked over to her. “It is only a matter of time now. I was right—he would only be able to hold out for a year.”

“That year is coming to an end,” she said.

“Indeed, as is he.”

 

 * * * * * * *

 

Brian Friedkin knew what the others thought of him. Creepy, strange, shifty... untrustworthy.

The truth was that he was actually quite the opposite. Unfortunately for him, no matter how decent a person he was someone did have him by the proverbial, and literal, balls. The Family had wasted no time in targeting him— likely due to his promotion to Assistant Director of the CIA. He had no idea what their agenda was, and his professional side was using their weakness — him — much like they were using his weakness — his family — against him. He just hoped they weren't on to him or his family would be dead and he would be branded a traitor and this would all be for naught.

He had no idea who else in the agency was compromised besides him and he was determined to find out.

After all, one did not make it to this top level without being very, very observant and having certain contingencies in place. The first one was coming into play shortly once Canton managed to get Torchwood into the US. The second would be involving Rex Matheson, an Agent that was in observation as being one of the first Miracles of Miracle Day.

The younger man walked into Brian's office just as he was putting away the private cell phone that the Family used to contact him with. “Is everything all right sir?”

“Yes, Rex,” answered Brian, and Rex started to leave. “Wait a second, would you. I have a very special assignment for you.”

“Of course, sir, what you need?”

“I need you to get into Charlotte Wills good graces and keep tabs on a Time Lord that calls himself the Master. Report only to me, we clear?” said Brian.

“Yes sir,” answered Rex. “Can I ask why?”

“I have a feeling you're going to find that out for me,” answered Brian. “Remember, only to me... and if I'm not available... directly to Allan Shapiro. And we never had this conversation... in fact... we never had any conversations longer than hello and good bye, you get me?”

 

 * * * * * * *

 

Antel walked into the library. Centuries had passed and while she looked very much the same there was some silver in her hair and creases around her eyes. She had not given up but he could see what the destruction of the planet called Earth had done to her mental state.

There were sharp edges in her psyche where there hadn't been before but she was still welcome here. She was a highly skilled diplomat and personal aide at Capitol. While she had tried to keep a low profile her name was rapidly spreading throughout certain circles on the Council. “You know you can't keep me forever,” she said.

“I know that,” he answered as he sat down beside her. “But I also cannot say that I regret having you around so long either.”

She laughed at that. “True enough.” She sighed then. “I still need to find a way back.”

“To that ruined world where nothing is left?”

She turned to look at him and he saw how old she really was. She looked young but she was a full Time Lord. He could sense that. “My TARDIS is on that planet and the planet isn't supposed to be an asteroid belt. The time line of that world has been changed. More than one intelligent, and capable of space travel, species involved off that rock. I cannot stop trying to fix that error.”

 

 * * * * * * *

 

Charlotte was more than a little nonplussed that she had been assigned Rex Matheson, but Shapiro had been adamant. “I don't get it really. His first five minutes with Brian after surviving his miracle and being promoted high enough to be assigned to Brian and Brian kicked him off his staff and team. Something to do with personality conflicts and not mixing with his team.”

“Brian normally this... strange?” she asked, already knowing the answer herself.

Brain Friedkin was always a bit strange which was why the Family had picked him specifically as their mole. Allan only rolled his eyes. “If he wasn't my Assistant Director and as brilliant as he was, I'd reassign him to Alaska.”

The doors opened and Charlotte regarded the younger man within. A moment later she offered her hand with a slight smile. “Welcome to the team, Rex, I... for one... am happy to have you on it.”

“I wasn't sure anyone would be after what happened between me and Brian,” he answered honestly as he shook her hand. “But let me put your mind at ease—I'll devote all my energy to the mission at hand.”

“See, I told you he'd work better with you,” said Shapiro. “Makes me wonder why I didn't assign him to you in the first place. I'll let you get acquainted.”

They waited until Shapiro had left and then Charlotte's smile fell from her face. “What did happen?”

“I have no idea. One minute things are fine and the next he's going off on how we're all not pulling our weight on some project of his... unfortunately I can't divulge details...” He had the grace to look mildly apologetic but not overly so. Mild regret over keeping secrets with members of the team, but not willing to sell out his former team. Charlotte nodded in encouragement. “... He called me up to explain my actions and then he loses it. I'll be honest — I stood my ground. He turned it into a shouting match and I'm ashamed I rose to the bait. Next thing I was off his team. I had it coming, I admit that.”

“His loss, my gain,” she said. “Let me tell you right now that you can always come to me with concerns. I may or may not take the suggestions but I will listen.”

“Good to hear, ma'am,” he said. “If you don't mind me asking — what is the mission?”

“We captured a dangerous criminal, the very one who murdered President Winters. Our task has been to interrogate him to find out what he knows about Miracle Day. This is a time related incident. He's a Time Lord — the only one not made of crystal so he's the key to this,” she answered. “And in the process we get a little overdue justice for President Winters.”

Rex whistled. “That's an impressive deal right there.” But it wasn't exactly news — Brian had already briefed him on it which meant he needed to get deeper than this. “When do we get started?”

 

 * * * * * * *

 

Harriet read her secure email and crinkled her brows. Mickey read it over her shoulder. “What in the name of hell is this?” he asked.

“I have a contact in the CIA that has been giving us information for years. I made this friend when I worked for MI-5,” she answered.

“And here I thought you were a backbencher in Parliament before we blew up Dowling,” mused Mickey.

Harriet spared him a smile. “Where do you think I managed to pull up the strength of character to defy the Slitheen and then lead the country, young man? Anyway, my contact is telling me that he has found the Master... or at least a lead on the Master. His contact is now on the inside of the department that has him. This is the key —our turning point. Brian can be a slimy bastard with a roving eye but his loyalties count for much.” She grinned as she read and then her smile fell. “Oh dear.”

“What is it.”

“That line there, the one about Othello and Shakespeare, it means he's been compromised but he's somehow managed to turn it around to his favour. Unfortunately the more he uses his compromised situation the more it will be compromised—perhaps until his death would could come sooner rather than later,” she answered, and Mickey could hear the sorrowful note of her voice.

He laid a hand on her shoulder in support and she put her hand on his. “We need to get this information to the Brig,” said Mickey. “Jack and the others need to know what it is they are walking into.”

 

 * * * * * * *

 

Hours later Harriet and Mickey sat in Alistair's office. “So, you have a lead—tenuous—but better than what we had a few hours ago. And the potential that this lead is going to only get better. Well done... and I understand what he means. Horrible position to be in but at least he is choosing to save both his family and his cause,” he said. “Some men, good men, when in that position would not be so resourceful.”

“Poetic justice, it is,” said Jackie. “The bastards hold his family, he finds a way to turn the tables on them. I hope it blows up in their faces and he gets to see it.” She looked around at the surprised looks at her statement. “What? I do. Don't need to be so surprised by it.”

Alistair looked from Jackie and then to Pete without comment before turning his attention back to Harriet and Mickey. “What else do you have for me?”

“I hacked into the CIA,” said Mickey, and he ignored Jack's look. “It wasn't as hard as you think. I have a location on Special Agent Wills—she somehow goes from the Pentagon in DC to Brazil. Sao Paulo, to be exact. No idea what's there, but I have a feeling that's where we need to be,” he said.

“Good show, young man!” exclaimed Alistair as he turned to Jack. “I'd hate to ask this, but can you get a team together?”

“Yeah, but it doesn't solve the question on how we're going to get them down there,” he answered.

“You just leave that to UNIT,” answered Alistair.

 

 * * * * * * *

 

The Master was dragged out to the gantry. He could sense that the Doctor's regeneration from Six to Seven was imminent and he felt Time itself screaming at the fact that it was about to be pulled inside out through the Schism. “Teris, for the love of the Weave of Time, stop this now,” he begged. “Take it from someone who has caused his fair share of issues. I've looked into madness, been possessed by it, and trust me... it's not worth it.”

“I miss the old you,” said Teris, shaking his head as he looked over to the blonde woman.

There was a young black man with them, and he was also handcuffed to the gantry. He was human and the pressure of the Schism was causing him to sweat profusely as his gene code was simply overwritten. Time would tell if he literally came apart at the seams and turned to dust or would be changed. What a lot of Gallifreyans, or anyone else, didn't know was that it was entirely possible for a human to become a Time Lord. It was extremely rare but there had been one instance when a human, Earth born, had set herself apart and passed her training and then even had started into the Schism and lived.

In retrospect, having Ace around would have been rather welcome right about now.

Especially if she had a pack full of nitro-9.

For the first time in his very long life the Master had this sinking feeling that the bad guys were going to win. Even when he had been the bad guy he had not really wanted to win — which was why he never did — and when he wanted to win it wasn't because he was being evil just slightly selfish.

This feeling was not just a planet being taken over by him as supreme ruler, or the robbing of resources, but the death of the Universe. This was it — the end of everything that would ever be and ever was. And the worst part was that most of those out there would not even know it was coming.

He echoed something the Doctor had said many centuries before. “Is this how it all ends?”

It was almost too surreal when the walls exploded inward and the sound of gunfire rained out. Teris turned, perplexed, and he looked up. The Master did as well and he was relieved to see Jack Harkness and Martha Jones-Smith. Actually, he could have wept in relief. He didn't though — he had his dignity to think about. In reality everything moved far faster given that it was mostly human versus human, but so much happened in that short period of time.

Bullets flew past him and he ducked, covering Rex's body with his own.

Teris screamed up at them, “You're too late!”

“No, Teris, you are,” came a voice from the past as he turned to regard another Time Lord — the same one from the playback in the TARDIS.

“Antel...” breathed Teris in surprise and was about to say something else.

He was cut off as Jack took aim and shot him once between the eyes, and as he ran up to the falling renegade, he took out another gun and shot him through both hearts and then kicked him off the ledge. The Master looked up, hearing Charlotte scream in rage. Jack would be too slow to turn, and with the paradox still in effect he would die.

The visage of Antel faded.

Mickey Smith caught up then and Charlotte was riddled with bullets from the automatic rifle.

Just like that the fight was over.

But the Schism started to change. “Oh shit,” breathed the Master. “Jack! Let me loose!”

Jack ran up to him and unlocked the cuffs. The Master quickly rubbed feeling back into his limbs. “That's the Doctor. You'll have to unchain him, and cut him down... pull him out. The gantry he's tied to slides.”

“You heard the man, find the switches!” shouted Martha as she prepped a medkit.

A Chinese man in a UNIT uniform hit the right switches and the Doctor was pulled back from the edge and gently laid down. “He's too thin, Martha,” said Jack, and then the Schism collapsed a bit, and then expanded. “That can't be good.”

For a moment there was an overlap of two Doctors, one male and one female. The male one was still tied and gazed helplessly into the Schism while the other reached out from it. 

The Master stared at it and then at Jack. “We need to get him back to his own time — to his own TARDIS and back to where he's supposed to be.”

“He's too weak,” said Martha. “He's going to end up regenerating, isn't he?”

The Master nodded. “But, he's supposed to.”

He knelt down beside the Doctor and laid a hand on the other Time Lord's contact points for telepathy. It was alarmingly easy to reach into the Doctor's memories and scramble them enough to prevent the Paradox.

The Schism retreated back, and began to fade as the connection holding it faded. Finally with with sounded like a loud pop, the Doctor—the one they remembered—fell out onto the gantry. Jack ran to her and picked her up to help her stand up. Martha held the male Doctor as the current form failed. Moments later the Sixth incarnation of the Doctor died in her arms and she tearfully laid him down and stepped back. They all did.

But nothing happened.

Jack looked at the Master in alarm and the Master looked at the Schism. “Oh... oh no... that's what they meant by stealing his future.” He knelt down again and laid both hands over each of the Doctor's hearts. “Come on, take what you need...”

There was a quick glow from the veins in the back of his hands and wrists, and it moved into the Doctor's chest, and up the arteries in a quick flash. The Master stepped back as it grew out and became a blinding flare.

The Doctor screamed as he gasped back to life, and then screamed again as the regeneration sequence started. All to soon it was over and they heard from the UNIT officer, “Holy shit, it's him!”

The Master looked up and almost fainted.

It was Chang Lee — the young man that had saved the Doctor in San Francisco. Now he was older, and part of UNIT, but it was the same man.

Although, when he said almost... he meant... “Light headed,” he warned them moments before he dropped to ground beside the Doctor.

 

 * * * * * * *

 

When he woke next he sensed that real time had passed and a woman sat by his bed. His eyes flew open as he recognized who she was in reality. “Doctor?” he breathed.

She smiled, but it was indeed the same Doctor that had vanished at the start of this. He made to sit up and she pushed him back down again. “I understand I owe you thanks. Somehow you managed to not only redeem yourself but you also hijacked the story, as I understand it. In this disaster you were the Time Lord that led the charge, and gave the people what they needed to make time move back to the way it should.”

“Don't get me wrong, but you can have your role in this back,” he groaned. “Granted, the glory it can sometimes bring is nice. Having people like you and generally want to help you is nice... but the risk... you can keep.”

The Doctor's laughed and as she stopped the Master asked, “Where were you?”

She stopped abruptly and he suddenly sensed the difference in her age. “Gallifrey. I became the Lady Larna, if you believe it.”

The Master felt his jaw drop. “So there was a connection! I _knew_ it! I _always_ knew it... but... you didn't.”

“Apparently,” she admitted. “And that is a story you'll have to fill me in on eventually.”

 

 

After the Master had fallen back to sleep the Doctor walked out to stand beside the once again immortal Jack Harkness as they watched everyone go about their business. “I could not find a way into the Time Lock. If I could, I would have,” she said.

“I know.”

“And for my failure, I am truly sorry. I should have been here.”

Jack turned to look at her. “Doctor,” he started as he put both hands on her shoulders. “You can't always be here to save the planet. However, when you can't be here I would like you to know that you have made sure that we can stand on our own.”

“What did happen?” she asked. “In the end. I felt everything shift back.”

“They pulled your grandfather out of his own time line and...” Jack stopped, and noticed her looking up at him... fully expecting him to finish his sentence but he shook his head instead. “You know what, it's better you didn't see it.”

“I am no child that needs protecting,” she answered sharply.

“No, and I didn't mean it like that,” he said. “No adult should see what we saw. The Master made sure your grandfather's memories would be vague, scrambled and quite possibly feel like no more than a really, really bad dream. He will think what caused his regeneration from Six to Seven was a head injury from falling against the TARDIS console — but we all know the truth. And it's better that way.”

She nodded, accepting his explanation. “So, now what will you do?”

“The same as I ever do, Jack, the same as I ever do.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

THE DOCTOR WILL RETURN

IN

1812

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking this out until the end. I swear that the next installments will not be left in WIP-limbo this long ever again.


End file.
